Our Mercurial Selves
by brightsilverkitty
Summary: In the wake of a tragedy Dumbledore seizes an opportunity to use a mother's plea to his advantage. Unfortunately he did not factor a certain Death Eater into the equation. (Not a part of the "Time Heals All Wounds" series)
1. Chapter 1: Dumbledore's Plan

**A/N:** I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm doing this purely for my own entertainment (and hopefully for yours).

(A note for those who have read my stories before: This does not take place in the "Time Heals All Wounds" universe. This is something completely new and separate, so I hope you like it in its own right. And don't worry, I'll be updating _Pendulum _soon)

Please leave a review letting me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

* * *

><p>The moon rose high and bright above the wintery night. Wind whipped through the trees, rattling any remaining leaves from their branches.<p>

Malfoy Manor, known for it's stately appearance and opulent decor, rose high and cold above the glittering night. A single person trudged up the muddy path towards the front door, their body bent and bracing against the frozen wind.

In the study Narcissa Malfoy stood at the window and watched the approaching figure with narrowed eyes.

"He's here," she announced, spitting the words out as if they tasted sour. "It had better be worth it for him to come to the manor. Even at night- I hope he realizes the risk he's putting us at."

Her husband stood from his desk, and adjusted his robes. "Don't sound so menacing, Cissy," he teased, trying to lighten the mood. "We're doing this for Draco. Didn't we decide it was in his best interest?"

She did not answer him, but internally acknowledged the truth in his words.

"Besides," Lucius leaned in to peck her cheek, "It was your idea." He did not give her time to respond as he bounded toward the door, "I will go fetch our guest."

A few minutes later he was back, leading a grinning Albus Dumbledore.

"Narcissa, so nice to see you tonight. I hope you're staying warm," he greeted her warmly.

She stiffly responded with a polite "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

He made no mention of the last time he had seen Narcissa. The witch had thrown herself at his feet and begged him to save her newborn son from Lord Voldemort. She did not regret the decision, but her cheeks burned with shame at the memory of how she had behaved that evening.

Tea was poured, and polite-if strained- pleasantries were exchanged. All along Narcissa watched him for any hint of why he might have requested a meeting. There had been three months of agonizing silence after she last spoke with the man, and then this morning there had been an owl stating that he had urgent business to discuss.

But the man in front of her was merrily discussing the benefits of wooly slippers. She watched him chuckle into his tea and curled her fingers into the arm of the chair. _I'm going to curse him if he doesn't get to the point soon_, she vowed.

Finally, Dumbledore set his tea cup down. "I suppose you are wondering why I came here tonight?"

It took all of Narcissa's training to prevent herself from screaming at the irritating man. Instead, she simply nodded.

"I assume you are familiar with Tiberius Lester?"

Lucius let out a derisive hiss, "Who isn't? That madman makes himself known to every Pureblood in Magical Europe!"

"Then you are aware of his plan involving the muggleborn children?" Dumbledore's gaze was heavy as he studied the two Malfoys. All trace of his earlier cheer was gone now.

"Well, yes," said Lucius carefully. "I have heard the plan. The Dark Lord determined it was too foolhardy-"

"Indeed it was. The plan was haphazard and poorly executed. Lester did nothing to cover his tracks, and the Aurors caught him at the first home-"

Narcissa's voice cut across Dumbledore's, "Wait, what plan?"

Lucius' eyes never left Dumbledore's. "Lester had the insane idea that if he kidnapped all of the muggleborn children in Britain he could build a slave army and destroy the muggle world. It was completely ridiculous- Dumbledore, you can't mean that he actually infiltrated the Ministry and found the list-"

"-and found the list of Magical Children born to Muggles? Yes, Lucius. I'm afraid he did."

"But he was stopped. So why are we speaking about him?" There was a deep frown on Narcissa's face, and her fingernails dug into the edge of her chair.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that the Aurors arrived too late. Lester had already murdered the parents of the child he intended to steal."

"There was nothing in the Prophet-"

"Of course not, Cissa, the Ministry would never want to admit such a thing. Imagine the scandal."

"Lucius is right. The Ministry shut the whole thing down immediately. Lester received the Dementor's Kiss on the spot. I'm afraid there won't even be an investigation."

Narcissa sniffed in disbelief, "Surely you don't expect us to open up an investigation, Dumbledore?" The idiot had been dealt with, surely there was nothing else that needed to be done.

Something crossed the older wizard's face, and for a moment it seemed as if he was disappointed in the two sitting across from him. He exhaled slowly, and turned his head to look through the rain-stricken glass.

"The child was-remarkably- unharmed in the attack. She has been transported to a Muggle orphanage."

Neither Malfoy appeared to be particularly moved by this comment.

"She will remain there until a suitable family can be found to raise her."

The only sound in the room following Dumbledore's statement was that of the fire crackling.

Comprehension slowly dawned in Narcissa's eyes. "You can't mean… Surely you don't intend for us to raise the muggleborn?"

"You said that you wanted me to protect your son. This is how we will do it."

"By bringing a diseased brat into the home?" Lucius spat the words, "We might as well hand Draco over to be raised by the Dark Lord. He'd be far safer."

Narcissa shot her husband a dirty look, then turned to Dumbledore with a somewhat more diplomatic answer. "The child would be happier among her own kind."

Dumbledore smiled, but there was something hard glittering in his eyes. "You are 'her own kind'. She is magical, just as magical as your son. And I am certain that she is healthy and disease-free. She will do no harm to young Draco."

"There must be another way," Lucius stood from his seat, and moved to grip the back of Narcissa's chair. "I'm sure you can find something more useful than raising a child for us to do- I have Ministry access, I can find you any information you would like."

Dumbledore sat back in his seat, "I'm sure you could Lucius, and I am grateful for that. However, at this point the most useful thing you could do would be to raise the child. Listen," his voice hardened a bit when Lucius opened his mouth to interject, "The child's parents were just brutally murdered by a blood supremacist. She is going to have that knowledge for the rest of her life. At this moment, if I leave her where she is, she has the chance to be adopted into a loving family." He took a deep breath, "But there is also the possibility that she will not be adopted. That she will grow up filled with hatred for the society that allowed her parents to be slaughtered. If we aren't careful we may have another Dark Lord on our hands- one bent on the destruction of all Purebloods."

It was an extreme possibility, but it had captured the attention of the Malfoys.

"But why, in Merlin's name, would you want us to be the ones to raise her?" Lucius asked. "Surely another family wouldn't mind- the Weasleys would barely notice the extra child in their brood."

Dumbledore inclined his head, "The Weasleys are an excellent choice-" he continued without acknowledging Lucius' snort of disbelief," -but I believe that the girl would have a better purpose here."

Narcissa cocked her head to the side, and stared intently as she waited for him to continue.

"If a child were to be raised by the Dark Lord's inner circle- with all the advantages that come with being part of the Pureblood elite-"

Lucius' chest seemed to visibly inflate.

"-Then it is highly likely that Voldemort would want to include that child among his closest companions."

"You want the child to be a Death Eater?" Lucius asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, "Not exactly. Not fully, at least." He reached up to adjust his glasses, "I intend for the child to be raised to fit in with Pureblood society while also maintaining the knowledge of her true ancestry. In the end I trust that the child's loyalties will lie with those who would not have murdered her parents for the simple fact that they were Muggles. It would not be easy to raise such a child, but I'm certain that you two will be more than up to the task."

He fixed them with another expectant look, and took an irritating slurp of tea.

Once again it was Narcissa who figured it out first.

"So," she said, "you want us to raise you a spy."

* * *

><p>The Badger was one of the most respected pubs in Wizarding Britain. It was established by Hufflepuffs, as the name indicated, and therefore had all of the tell-tale symbols of their House. Yellow and black banners hung from every wall, the image of badgers was everywhere- from the stamped cutlery to the tapestries on the wall. As if the patrons were not already informed of the association with Hogwarts' friendliest house, a giant portrait of Helga Hufflepuff hung above the mantle.<p>

Inside, the atmosphere was always cheery. Large copper birds perched in the rafters and sang raucously while stamping out a rhythm. A fiddle with no musician played itself in the corner, and hundreds of glittering candles twinkled above the tables. On many nights, the scrubbed wooden tables were pushed back to create a makeshift dance-floor. Everyone who passed though the round door left happier. It was the most welcoming place in Diagon Alley…

Which is why it was the perfect place for Lord Voldemort to meet the inner circle of his Death Eaters.

The snow crunched below Lucius' feet as he passed the front entrance of The Badger, and made his way up the rickety staircase at the back of the building. He hoped that the Dark Lord was in a good mood this evening.

Apparently, he was. As soon as the blonde man stepped into the low ceilinged room, Voldemort grinned and shouted, "Lucius! Join us, we were just about to finish up here."

Were it not for his red eyes and sickly complexion, Voldemort might have been handsome. He sat on a squashy yellow armchair before the fireplace, and beckoned to Lucius as an eager mentor might to his prize pupil.

It struck Lucius for the first time how wrong it felt to be here in this little room with some of the most despicable people he had ever met. Granted, he counted himself among those despicable people. But the room was cozy, and homey. There were soft chairs, and the floorboards vibrated from the merriment below. They might have been schoolboys in a meeting of their secret society.

But they were not.

Lucius plastered an interested look on his face, and accepted a tin of cauldron cakes and a glass of firewhisky.

"May I beg an audience with you my lord?" The words he had once so dutifully spoken sounded ridiculous and childish.

Voldemort's eyes glinted with curiosity, "But of course," he set aside the evening Prophet, and leaned closer to Lucius, his face a mask of concern. "What troubles you, Lucius?"

Lucius thought back to the words Dumbledore wrote for him the night before.

"My lord you know that my wife, Narcissa, prides herself on her many charitable contributions."

Voldemort nodded, but behind him Lucius' sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange, stiffened, and drew closer so that she could hear the conversation. Lucius ignored her.

"She has been spending quite a it of time at one of the orphanages, and this past weekend I learned why. It appears that she has fallen in love with one of the children there, a girl named Hermione. She has asked me to consider adopting this child."

Voldemort nodded, but his expression was uninterested. "Why should this trouble you, Lucius?"

"My Lord, the girl is a half-blood." Dumbledore had insisted that he inform Voldemort that the girl was a half-blood, the headmaster seemed to be of the opinion that the entire success of their plan rested on this fact.

Apparently, he knew what he was talking about. Voldemort sat up a little straighter, his expression interested. "A half-blood?"

"Yes, My Lord, I'm afraid my wife had already fallen in love with the girl before she knew."

"Well, she would not be the first half-blood in our society. Many of them can be molded into respectable witches or wizards. I'm sure that, with the right guidance, she would be a credit to the Malfoy name."

"I'm sure you are right, but there's more." Lucius swallowed, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's, "Draco is a sickly baby, we're…" he let out a shuddering breath, his skin burning from the heat of Bellatrix's stare, "we're afraid that he might not make it through the winter. If he does, well, the

Healers have hinted that he may never have the strength to follow in my footsteps. Naturally he will still be my heir, but I'm afraid that he'll never have the strength to participate in politics, or to be a credit in your inner circle." There was a flicker in Voldeort's eyes, so Lucius continued quickly, "What I'm saying is that Narcissa hopes that the girl will take over the political responsibilities, and that she will follow me into your inner circle. I told her that you might not accept a half-blood, but she begged me to ask."

Lucius watched the Dark Lord consider his words. For a moment he was certain that Dumbledore had been a fool, had put his entire family at risk.

Then…

"Well, I could never break Narcissa's heart." There was a rough scrape of laughter, and Voldemort smiled in what he surely thought was a fatherly grin,

"And if Draco is weak it makes sense that you would want to provide another Malfoy to follow in your footsteps. The girl is young, and will be living under the guidance of one of the most distinguished Pureblood families. I'm sure that you can counteract any damage that her Muggle side would have on her character."

Relief washed through Lucius, far stronger than the outrage he felt when Voldemort called his son 'weak'.

"There is one final thing, My Lord. This girl is related to Albus Dumbledore. A niece, or cousin. It's not quite clear to me. You know how all of his answers are vague."

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise, but he did not interrupt.

"He requests that her adopted family allow him to visit once a week. I can, of course refuse-"

"No." Voldemort said, just as Dumbledore predicted he would, "Allow the girl to cultivate that relationship, it could prove useful in the future." He leaned forward, "Bring her tomorrow evening. I would like to meet this child."

"I will, My Lord. I will," promised Lucius, his breathing much easier now.

Voldemort waved a hand, "Now go, tell your wife the good news."

Lucius stood, eager to leave. He was aware of Bellatrix walking behind him as he crossed to the door.

"Give Cissy my love," she drawled quietly so that only he could hear, "And tell her I'll be by for a visit soon. I would like to check in on dear, sick little Draco."

He held her gaze for a long moment. She knew that something was going on, something deeper than what he had told the Dark Lord.

"I'll do that," he said curtly. Then he swept out into the night, and disappeared.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, let me know what you think!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting Hermione

The Muggle orphanage smelled of disinfectant, dried spit, and urine. The Malfoys in their tailored robes looked very out of place among the sickly yellow walls that were covered in children's drawings.

Unsurprisingly, Dumbledore looked right at home.

"I've taken the liberty of having Anne bring out little Hermione," he said as the Malfoy's approached him. "Delightful woman."

"Does she know about, er- us?" Lucius asked, shaking his head when Dumbledore held out a peppermint stick.

The headmaster nodded, "Anne's mother was a witch. She noticed the signs in Hermione almost immediately. Peppermint, Narcissa?"

"No, thank you."

Narcissa felt a twinge of pity as she studied the drawings on the wall. Most were of stick figure children, but there were quite a few animals depicted as well. There were a few blobs that were striped orange-and-black that she assumed were meant to be tigers, and she internally decided to enroll Draco in art classes as soon as he was old enough to hold a crayon.

"Ah!" Dumbledore's pleased voice cut across her thoughts, "Here we are. Lucius, Narcissa, allow me to introduce your daughter- Hermione."

Narcissa thought it was awfully presumptive of Dumbledore to call the girl their daughter when they had not even met the child yet, but she nonetheless found herself drawing closer to the woman who had brought Hermione through the double doors behind Dumbledore. The woman was thin and sour-faced with colorless hair that clung to her skull. Had the Malfoys bothered to look at her, they might have been unnerved by the glare of open hostility that was upon her face. Fortunately for them, they were much too interested in the little girl to notice the woman carrying her.

_At least she's pretty_, Narcissa thought as she examined the child.

The girl had soft, golden brown curls that fell in ringlets around her ears. Her face was pretty, with a button nose and a frowning mouth. Large honey brown eyes watched Narcissa gravely, and then flicked over to Lucius.

Narcissa stole a glance at her husband, and was surprised to see the soft smile that had crept across his face.

"Hello, Hermione," Dumbledore said, reaching out to take the toddler's hand. Narcissa bit back a laugh as the girl slid her fingers out his grasp, and fixed him with a reproachful look.

"Mama?" She looked expectantly around the room, "Mama come?"

Something ached in her chest as she watched the girl look around for her dead mother, and she wished that she had brought Draco.

Dumbledore let out a sigh, "No, Hermione. She is not coming. But your new Mama is here. Narcissa, perhaps you could take the child?"

She looked at him as if he had asked her to go waltz with a Hippogriff. "I don't know if that's appropriate yet, Dumbledore, she doesn't even know who we are."

Lucius, who had always been one to tackle a problem head-on, took the situation into his own hands.

"Hello, Hermione," he gave a little bow, and held out his arms, "May I hold you?"

The girl eyed him uncertainly, but raised her arms in consent.

"That's a good girl," a grin stretched across his face as he lifted the girl away from the woman, and settled her into his arms. "I'm going to be your new Papa, and my wife," he nodded at Narcissa, "will be your new Mother. How does that sound?"

Narcissa watched the girl look over at her with the same serious expression, and then back at Lucius. "Mama come?"

Lucius shook his head gently, "No, your Mama is gone. But Papa is here." He smiled, "And your little brother is waiting at home to meet you."

From the corner of her eye, Narcissa saw Dumbledore's grin.

"We've got a room decorated just for you, I think you're going to like it, it's got your name above to door-"

While Lucius told the girl all about the wonders of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa followed Anne and Dumbledore into a cramped office and signed the papers. Anne said nothing, but jabbed her finger towards the signature line on each of the forms, and left it at that.

"Has she seen a Healer recently?" Narcissa asked as she signed what felt like the 90th form.

Dumbledore sucked his peppermint and nodded, "She saw a Healer the night of the attack, and she's also seen a Doctor- a Muggle Healer," he explained when Narcissa's face scrunched up in confusion. "Both gave her a clean bill of health."

Narcissa looked around the dingy office and privately wondered if her clean bill of health had been compromised during her stay.

"Done!" Anne announced in a high, shrill voice. She fished around the drawers of her desk and pulled a large grubby envelope free. After stuffing a fistful of papers into it she passed it to Narcissa. "You may take her now."

"Ah, there's one last thing," Dumbledore said. He pulled a scroll from his sleeve, and unrolled it. "This will officially make Hermione a part of the Malfoy family for the purposes of _our_ world. Lucius, would you come in here for a moment?"

Narcissa was surprised to find that there was still room in the tiny office for Lucius and the child.

"You may wish to change her middle name as well," suggested Dumbledore with a meaningful look, "Something that might speak of her purer roots."

Narcissa glared at the infuriating old man, "Doesn't she have a middle name already?"

Dumbledore shrugged, "I was simply suggesting that you pick out something a little more _connected." _

_"_Perhaps we could have a few moments to speak alone," Lucius cut in. "This is a delicate subject, and we might have an easier time picking the perfect name if we had some privacy."

Anne did not look thrilled about leaving the three alone in her office, but she nonetheless allowed Dumbledore to lead her into the corridor. As soon as the door was shut, Narcissa rounded on her husband.

"You know he's only doing this to force us to bond with the child!"

"It's not that big of a deal," Lucius was gently bouncing Hermione in his arms, "we'll pick a name to shut up Dumbledore-"

"We didn't agree to this!"

Lucius slowly met her gaze, "Cissy, in the scheme of things this is nothing. We knew we would be raising her, taking her into our lives as a member of our family. You know how important names can be, don't you want to have some part in picking hers?"

"No," she looked away from his penetrating gaze. How could she put into words how _wrong _this felt? "Draco is our child."

"And once this paper has been signed, Hermione will be our child as well."

She flinched as if she had been struck, "You can't mean that?" Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for some sign that he was joking. She found none. "Lucius, this is a _muggleborn_, do you realize what we're doing to our family by taking her in?" She barely registered the child shrinking away from her harsh tone, burrowing into Lucius' robes.

"We are saving our family. If accepting a mud-muggleborn into our house will save our son I will embrace a dozen new children. The Dark Lord thinks she is going to be my heir in all but name, if we are going to pull this off we need to at least attempt to care for the child."

"I agreed to raise her. I agreed to make sure that she is fed, clothed, schooled, taken care of. I never agreed to _name _her."

"Cissy, it's a small thing-"

Narcissa interrupted him, "Name her what you want. I'll have no part of it."

His gaze darkened. Keeping one arm firmly around Hermione, he jerked the parchment towards him and used the quill Dumbledore had left to complete the form. Then, without looking at her, he shoved the form towards her and stormed out of the office.

Her eyes sought out the name that he had written, and her lip curled in distaste.

_Hermione Narcissa Malfoy _

She was half-tempted to scratch the name out and write in a new one. Her only assumption was that by naming the child after her Lucius hoped to endear her to the girl. Well, he could try all he wanted. The child was not her daughter, and she never would be.

Then, with a scowl, she scrawled her signature over the line marked "Mother".

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you for reading! And a huge thank you to those who reviewed/followed/favorited, I was beginning to have doubts about this story, so I'm really grateful for your comments.

A couple of notes:

The main pairing in this story will be Bellamione (eventually)

The main storyline begins in the sixth book, but there are going to be a few chapters before that highlighting key events in Hermione's childhood/in the first few books that I think are important.

Please review and let me know what you think!

Happy New Year!


	3. Chapter 3: Meeting Hermione Part 2

The afternoon sunlight painted the room they had set up for Hermione gold. It was a generic room, void of the toys and decorations that personalized Draco's bedroom. Lucius looked around the bare walls and determined to fix that. The only furnishing aside from the crib was a high wooden chair that Narcissa had set Hermione on so that she could dress her.

He stood in the doorway with a very sleepy Draco. His son had been curious about the new addition to their family, but the two babies had thus far done little more than stare at each other.

Narcissa finished tying a grass green ribbon in Hermione's short hair. Her face was expressionless as she finished tying the sash of Hermione's matching dress. "I think that's fine," she said without looking at him. "As long as she doesn't cry the Dark Lord will find no fault with her."

"Do you think she'll cry?"

Narcissa shot him an irritated look, "She's a baby, Lucius, it's what they do."

Lucius sincerely hoped that the girl would have more sense than to cry in front of the Dark Lord. He stepped into the room, "And how do I look, would the Dark Lord find fault with me?"

"Don't joke about that," admonished Narcissa, "The entire plan rests on this meeting. We can only hope that the Dark Lord takes one look at the child, gets bored, and sends you both home immediately." She reached for Draco, and held him close, pressing a kiss to his head. "I can't wait for this day to be over."

"It will be over soon," Lucius grinned, hoping that she had forgiven him for the naming incident at the orphanage.

He moved over to the chair, "Alright, sweetheart, it's time to go," he scooped her into his arms, keeping his voice light and cheerful. "Does she need a cloak?"

"If you wear your black one it will be large enough to shield her. Besides, I thought you were going to use the Floo?"

"I've never used the Floo with a baby, I didn't know if I needed to take extra precautions. We wouldn't want little Hermione to get hurt."

"Wear the black cloak and hold it over her face so that she doesn't accidentally inhale any soot. She'll be fine."

She followed him into his study, and helped him fix the cloak over Hermione. "If there's any trouble, come back immediately. I can have the Floo disconnected in seconds."

"I love it when you worry about me," he teased, pecking her on the lips. "I'll be home shortly, have a good evening. Goodnight Draco," he smoothed his hand over his son's head, then grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder from the special bowl they kept over the mantle. Then He stepped into the emerald flames.

"The Badger's kitchen!"

A few seconds later he stepped into the bustling kitchen. It was a low-ceilinged room that gave the impression of being very deep underground. Several copper gas lamps illuminated the large wooden table that sat in the middle of the room, but most of the light came from a hearth that was so big he could roast a giant in it. A dozen house-elves paused momentarily to gawk at him, before turning back to their tasks.

"Mr. Malfoy!" A heavily muscled woman glided across the kitchen with a tray of fresh-baked rolls. "Everyone's upstairs- who's this?"

Lucius had just pulled the cloak away from Hermione, who was looking around with wonder.

"This is my daughter, Hermione." Lucius said, gently pushing her bow back in place.

The woman set the rolls on the table and pulled a large red handkerchief from her pocket, "I didn't know you have a daughter," she said, mopping her brow.

Irritation flared in his throat. He did not care to explain his situation to the woman, in his opinion it was none of her business. Luckily, he was saved from having to answer by Hermione.

"Puppy!" She pointed eagerly at the nearest house-elf, her face glowing with excitement. "Puppy!"

The woman broke into a harsh giggle that made Hermione shrink against him. "That's not a puppy, love, that's a house-elf. Has she never seen one before? I always thought Malfoy Manor was full of 'em."

He forced his face to stay neutral. "Our elves like to stay out of sight. Well, forgive me but I had better go upstairs."

"Puppy?" Hermione said as Lucius took her through the back door and up the staircase.

"You can see another one when we get home," Lucius promised, "He's much better than those ones. You can see him whenever you want." He shifted the cloak so that it covered all but her face.

The sun was just starting to dip below the skyline of Diagon Alley, and he took a moment at the top of the stairs to take a few deep breaths. "We'll get through this," he murmured, more for his own benefit that for Hermione's, "And if you don't cry I will buy you as many toys as you want. Your room will be so crowded we'll have to use ten expansion charms."

She let out a little sigh, and rested her head against his chest. The wind ruffled the top of her hair, and it was his concern that she might be too cold that finally drove him towards the door.

"Lucius! Come in, come in!"

Of all the days that Voldemort decided to play the gracious benefactor, Lucius was glad that he had chosen that day. The room was full of the usual faces. He caught a glimpse of Bellatrix scowling at him from a table laden with maps and charts. Ignoring her, he focused in on the man sitting next to the fireplace.

"Is this the girl? Move, Avery, let Lucius sit."

Avery gave Lucius a small frown as he vacated the chair directly next to the Dark Lord. Lucius sat quickly, shedding his cloak as he did so.

"Yes, my Lord, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is the Dark Lord."

"Let me see her."

Lucius almost fell out of his chair when Voldemort held out his arms expectantly.

_Please don't cry, please don't cry, _Lucius thought, carefully passing Hermione to Voldemort, and helping her sit on his lap. He had known grown men who had cried merely by glimpsing the red eyes that gazed unblinkingly down at the baby. He held his breath as Hermione stared gravely back.

Then, miraculously, Hermione smiled.

"Pretty," she said, reaching for the silver buttons on Voldemort's robes.

Lucius leaned forward, "Hermione, no! My Lord, I apologize-"

"Leave her, Lucius, it's quite alright. She'll do no harm."

It took all of his willpower to keep his mouth from falling open.

Voldemort appeared to not notice, "We were discussing the recent attack on-"

Lucius barely registered anything that was discussed that night. Throughout everything his eyes were pinned on the baby. She stayed in high spirits, pulling on the buttons, giggling as Voldemort spread a map in front of him and pointed locations out to her. Finally she fell into a peaceful slumber, and he allowed her to sleep in his lap while he finished discussing his plans with the members of his inner circle.

Slowly, the fire died down, and people began returning home to their families, until at last only he, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord remained.

"You may take her now Lucius," Voldemort said, giving the girl a pat on the head as if she were a dog. "Bring her the next time you come, I think she gives me a more domestic look. We are doing this for the children, after all. So that they can have a brighter future."

Lucius looked into the evil grin as he lifted Hermione into his arms, and had to suppress a shudder. "Of course, my Lord. I'm sure Hermione would be delighted to see you again. She seems to have taken to you."

"I'm sure that she will be an excellent addition to our forces when she comes of age," Voldemort turned to look at Bellatrix, who was glaring darkly at her charts. "And who better to train the girl than her aunt? Bellatrix, have you had the pleasure of meeting your new niece?"

"We've only brought Hermione home today," Lucius rushed to explain, "You are the first person, other than myself and Narcissa, to meet her."

"Well who am I to stand in the way of this family reunion? Bellatrix, come meet Hermione."

Moving as if every step hurt, Bellatrix stalked over. "Hello," she growled.

Voldemort laughed, an ugly sound, and smoothed his robes, "One day, Hermione, Bellatrix is going to turn you into the best Death Eater I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Isn't that right, Bella?"

"Yes, my Lord," she ground, her eyes burning into Lucius. "I look forward to it."

"I should take her home," Lucius said, pulling his cloak on and securing it around the sleeping baby.

Voldemort nodded, "Do that. I look forward to seeing you both again soon. "You're excused as well, Bellatrix."

Lucius cursed his bad luck as his sister-in-law followed him to the door.

"It's a shame I wasn't invited to the party," she drawled once they had stepped through the door and closed it behind them. The night was dark, and the only light came from the yellow street lamps below.

His brow wrinkled, "What party?"

"The party Narcissa threw to welcome Hermione into the family. The one she threw for Draco must've had a thousand guests. I'm sure that this one was equally as large."

"You know that you would have been invited had there been a party."

"Aha!" She jabbed a finger towards him, "Cissy _loves _parties! Tell me, Lucius, why wouldn't she throw one for this very happy occasion?"

"Because we don't want to overwhelm Hermione while she settles in. Her second birthday will be in September, I am sure that there will be a party then."

"This is going too far, the Dark Lord has taken an interest in the girl!"

He allowed a slow smile to spread across his face, "Jealous, Bellatrix?"

Her wand arm gave a weird spasm, but she did not attempt to curse him. "When the Dark Lord discovers whatever plot you've dragged my sister into, I will not save you from the aftermath."

"There is no plot, Bellatrix. You're just upset that the Dark Lord approves of something I've done."

The lamp cast most of her face in shadow, and made her furrowed brow look a lot more severe than it must have been. "I'm going to figure out what you're up to," she hissed, "I only hope that it's not too late to save my sister when I do."

He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could she spun on her heel and vanished into thin air.

He sighed, and repositioned the girl sleeping against his shoulder. "Come, Hermione. Let's go home before crazy aunt Bellatrix comes back."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Please leave a review and let me know what you think! All constructive criticism is welcomed.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed!


	4. Chapter 4: A Visit With Bellatrix

People often supposed that Bellatrix's fanaticism meant that she was an idiot. Their underestimation often worked in her favor, and many a skilled witch or wizard had lost a duel (or worse) by assuming that they had the upperhand.

Unfortunately, her sister knew her too well. She greeted Bellatrix several days later with a bright smile and ushered her into Malfoy Manor.

"It's been too long, Bella," she chided gently, taking her sister's cloak. "Lucius informed me that you know about our happy news!"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she took in her sister's glowing face, and allowed herself to be pulled into one of Narcissa's rare embraces.

"Yes… Shame I had to find out second hand from Lucius…"

Narcissa apparently missed the bitter note in her words, "I wanted to tell you, Bella, really, but I didn't dare hope that we might- that the Dark Lord would-"

"The Dark Lord is very generous," drawled Bellatrix coldly, "you should have given him more credit."

"I know that now," Narcissa twined her arm around Bellatrix's, and strolled her into the sitting room. "Would you like to meet her properly?"

Bellatrix had no interest in meeting babies. She had scarcely noticed her own nephew's presence in this world. "Maybe later- oh good, you've brought them both out."

Her nephew, with his blond fluffy hair was strapped into some chair that had a plethora of brightly colored parts that could be twirled, strummed, pulled, pressed and chewed. It looked like he had melted the contents of his toybox into the chair, and he delightedly pulled a purple star that rattled as he touched it.

The girl had been placed on one of the ivory chairs, and though she was impeccably dressed, Bellatrix immediately noticed the lack of toys surrounding the toddler. She also noted the way Narcissa sat in a chair on the other side of the coffee table, situating Draco firmly between herself and the child.

_Good show, Cissy_, thought Bellatrix, _I almost believed you for a moment_.

She sat down beside the child, and made a point to grasp a chubby hand in her own, "It's very nice to meet you, Hermione."

The girl stared up at her in astonishment, and then a slow grin stretched across her face. Bellatrix felt the corners of her mouth twitch in response. The girl was charming, she could acknowledge that.

But a swift look in her sister's direction confirmed her suspicions. Narcissa watched the girl with a cool, calculating look. The same look entered her eyes when she played wizard's chess. Bellatrix looked back at the child with new curiosity.

_Why are you here, little one?_

She intended to find out. She _had _to find out. Maybe the girl was Lucius' bastard (it would certainly explain Narcissa's coolness) in which case she could relax and let her sister maintain her reputation through this one insignificant lie.

But part of her was convinced that there was something deeper going on here. Something told her that there was more at stake than a simple reputation. If they had lied to the Dark Lord… Bellatrix could care less what happened to Lucius, but despite her devotion to her leader she could not allow anything to happen to her sister.

Which was why she needed answers.

"So this is the baby you've become infatuated with? You must be so happy to have her home."

Narcissa hummed in agreement, and reached to wipe drool from Draco's chin. "We've been ecstatic. I can't imagine our lives without her here."

Again, her tone was warm and genuine, but Bellatrix noted that her sister did not so much as glance at the child.

"Are you going to tell me the real reason that you've brought this child into your life?" She asked, suddenly very irritated with her sister.

Narcissa's blue eyes were wide with feigned innocence, "Whatever do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes, and plucked the girl into her arms. "I mean that if I were to kill her right now I doubt you'd even shed a tear." It was an extreme threat, but one that got her sister's attention.

Hermione, completely oblivious, cooed delightedly and reached for one of Bellatrix's curls.

"So let's try this again. Why do you _really _have this child?"

* * *

><p>Somehow the sight of her sister holding the muggleborn child made Narcissa's chest constrict with fear.<p>

"The Dark Lord has instructed me to take a special interest in this child," Bellatrix cooed, twirling her little finger through one of Hermione's curls, "I think he intends me to mold her into, well…" a vicious smile curved her mouth, "me."

Her voice softened, so that Narcissa could barely hear her, "But there's something off about this child. You, my dear sister, are no philanthropist. I would sooner believe that Albus Dumbledore intends to become a Death Eater than that you fell in love with that child while visiting an orphanage." She cradled Hermione against her shoulder, and fixed her sister with an undecipherable look. "So what is so special about this girl?"

"I can't tell you." Narcissa said, hoping that her voice sounded surer than she felt.

"That's what I thought. Well…" Bellatrix's wand was up and pointing at her before she had time to react, "_Legilimens!_"

Narcissa had never been good at keeping her sister out of her head. She struggled to raise her Occlumency shields, but by the time they were up Bellatrix had seen everything. She withdrew from her mind so quickly that Narcissa had to grip the nearest chair to prevent herself from falling over.

"You went to _Dumbledore_?" Bellatrix hissed, he face a mask of shock, confusion, and betrayal. "What, in Merlin's name would possess you to do such a thing?"

"I will not allow my son to become a Death Eater," Narcissa vowed, her eyes flashing like blue flames, "He _will not _risk his life for your Dark Lord. He won't."

"The Dark Lord would never force-"

"Wouldn't he?" Narcissa scathed. "He killed Albert Thurston for telling him that his son would not join."

"Thurston was an imbecile! His whole family is a disgrace, and now _you_ are trying to betray the Dark Lord." She said each word slowly, deliberately, "I have killed men for less than this."

A thrill of fear raced down Narcissa's spine. "I'm your sister, Bella. You wouldn't-"

"No," Bellatrix spat the word as if it were poison. "I wouldn't. Despite my better judgement, I love you, and I could never hurt you." A crazed gleam entered her eye, "But I can make this right."

Narcissa's mouth formed the question _how? _but before she could speak it she watched her sister slip a knife from her sleeve.

"Bellatrix," her mouth dry with fear, Narcissa found herself edging closer. "What are you doing?"

There was a flash of light from Bellatrix's wand, and the blonde sister fell to the ground, her limbs trapped in the body-bind spell. All she could do was watch as Bellatrix pulled the blade across her own arm, and grinned maniacally at the little girl.

"You see this blood, little one? This blood is _pure_. Your blood is filthy. You've got _muddy blood_." She said this last part in a singsong voice, and bounced Hermione so that the child let out a squeal of laughter. "We've got to fix that haven't we?" She bobbed her head in an exaggerated nod, and Hermione, who was still mesmerized by the dark witch, mimicked her actions.

"Very good! Such a clever girl." Bellatrix pressed a kiss to Hermione's head.

Narcissa's eyes were glued to the rivulet of blood that was oozing from the cut on her sister's arm. She strained to move her arms or her legs, but the spell prevented her from moving.

"You see, little one, my little sister has gotten herself into trouble again, hasn't she?" Again, Hermione burst into giggles as Bellatrix pressed their foreheads together and continued to speak in that strange voice. "And now, Bella has to fix it."

Bellatrix shot Narcissa a dark look, and Narcissa shivered at the glint in her eyes. _Please don't hurt her_, Narcissa thought, as if her sister could hear what she was thinking.

"The Dark Lord expects a half-blood, so I'm going to make her a half-blood."

Narcissa's heart gave an unpleasant lurch as she realized that her sister wasn't joking. _Stop, Bella, please._ She doubled her efforts in vain to get free of the spell.

"Don't worry, little one, you'll be getting the purest blood there has ever been." Bellatrix lifted the knife, the silver tip slick with her own blood, and pressed the tip to Hermione's arm.

_Whoosh! _

There was a pulse of blinding light, and Narcissa was up on her feet without realizing that no one had removed the curse. She ripped Hermione away from her sister, and pressed the tip of her wand to her sister's throat.

"Have you gone completely mad?" She hissed. Hermione had begun to cry, and she clutched the child closer. "You planned on _making her a half-blood_. That's insane, Bellatrix! Even for you!"

"I'm trying to protect us, Cissy, what do you think the Dark Lord is going to do when he finds out you lied-"

"_I don't intend for him to find out_!"

Bellatrix blinked in surprise, "Cissy…"

Narcissa stepped back, "Get out of here, Bellatrix. You are not allowed back in this house until I determine that you are safe for my family to be around."

"You're not serious?"

"I am."

"Cissy-"

"You're lucky I don't turn you in to the Aurors! I would be well within my rights, but somehow I doubt that the Dark Lord would take kindly to me having his favorite pet imprisoned."

"Cissy be reasonable. I'm sorry, I was acting rashly. We can find another way-"

Hermione's cries were getting progressively louder, but Narcissa did not back down. "Leave now."

Bellatrix's pleading expression was replaced by one of pure indignation. "Fine, but when the Dark Lord discovers your lie don't expect me to save you. As far as I'm concerned the whole lot of you can-" she did not finish her sentence, instead she stomped across the room and vanished through the door.

"Dobby!" Narcissa cried, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

The young house-elf appeared before her with a CRACK! "Yes Mistress?"

"Ward the room. I don't want anyone to come in or out until Lucius returns."

* * *

><p>Narcissa did not try to contact her sister until Halloween, when Lucius stormed home white as a sheet and gasped-<p>

"The Dark Lord has fallen!"

But by the time she tracked her sister down it was too late. Bellatrix had already tortured the Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, she had already been captured, and Barty Crouch was already beginning his onslaught of sentencing Death Eaters to Azkaban.

On the night of her sentencing, Hermione woke the house with a scream unlike anything she had ever heard from the girl before.

"Lucius, she's going to wake Draco!" Narcissa said, gliding into Hermione's room with her wand drawn. "What's wrong?"

Lucius, who had lifted Hermione into his arms, turned wide eyed to her, "I don't know," he confessed, gently rocking the howling toddler. "She doesn't appear to be injured…"

Narcissa stepped closer, and was immediately seized with concern for the child.

Hermione's face was bright red, and scrunched up with pain or fear. Big tears coursed from her bloodshot eyes, and she clung to Lucius as if he was about to vanish into thin air. "Papa…" she wailed, "hurts!"

"What hurts, sweetheart? Tell Papa what hurts."

But her only answer was to bury her face in his nightshirt and let out another bone-chilling scream.

And her husband, her clam, calculating husband was staring at her in panic. "Call a Healer, immediately."

She shivered, and nodded. She was through the door in a heartbeat, and though it felt like hours for St. Mungo's to respond and finally send a Healer, it must have only been a few minutes.

It was a long night. The first Healer could find nothing wrong, so Lucius ordered a new Healer to come. The second was just as perplexed as the first had been, so Lucius banished him as well. Finally, the third dosed the child with dreamless sleep, and they all breathed a little more easily as Hermione rested at last.

"There is nothing physically wrong with the girl," the Healer said briskly as he re-packed his medical case.

"There's something wrong," Lucius said from the chair where he had collapsed, Hermione still cradled against his chest. "You heard her-"

Narcissa walked over and leaned against the chair. To her surprise, she found herself gently stroking Hermione's hair.

The Healer sighed, "As I said, there's nothing _physically_ wrong with the child. However, I noticed in her chart that she was adopted. Sometimes, if the circumstances in which the child lived were _less than ordeal_, or if the child has witnessed something particularly distressing, the memories can be… unpleasant."

"But Hermione is too young to remember," Narcissa cut in.

The Healer smirked a little, and Narcissa decided that she disliked the man immensely. "Memory is often underrated. I assure you that she is not too young, especially if the event has taken place recently."

"So what do you propose we do?" Lucius asked.

"Be understanding, be gentle-" his smirk had not gone away, and Narcissa desperately wanted to hex him, "and when she is old enough allow her to visit a _professional _ so that she can explore these memories in a safe environment."

Lucius' hand on her arm was the only thing preventing her from jumping at him.

"We understand, thank you."

The Healer left a bottle of Dreamless Sleep with Lucius, and strode imperiously through the door. "I shall allow you to see me out, Madam Malfoy," he sneered.

"We can't hex him, Cissy," Lucius murmured as she moved to follow to infuriating man, "but the less people who know about Hermione's… _memories_… the better."

Narcissa flashed him a brilliant smile, and sauntered through the door.

The man was successfully _Obliviated_, and Hermione was put back to bed without further incident.

"She'll get through this," Narcissa assured Lucius as they finished checking on Draco (the boy had, thankfully, slept through the whole ordeal) "we'll discuss this with Dumbledore, surely he'll know of a discrete Healer who can give us a second opinion."

Lucius smiled tiredly, and pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm sure you're right."

"I am," she teased.

The thought never crossed their minds that the child's distress might have something to do with the thin, silvery white scar that slashed across her left forearm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was a little more difficult for me to like, and I'm not entirely happy with it. I hope you like it though! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5: Ministry Misery

Trigger warning: brief mention of self-harm

* * *

><p>Lucius hid his grin behind the Daily Prophet as he listened to Narcissa explain once again to to Hermione that she could not leave the manor in her nightgown.<p>

"_Please _Mother," begged the girl, "I promise to wear my cloak the whole time. I won't take it off!"

"Absolutely not. You will go upstairs and change this instant. No child of mine is going to leave the house without clothes on."

Lucius' grin stretched wider. While he now considered Hermione to be very much his daughter, Narcissa tended to view the child more as a ward than an actual member of the family. The only time she dropped her stoic demeanor was when the two were arguing.

"I wouldn't be going out without clothes on! Nightgowns are clothes!"

And at five years old Hermione was quite the debater.

"Hermione Malfoy, if you do not get dressed- _in proper clothes_- you will not leave the house at all!"

There was a sharp inhale of breath, and then the sound of tiny feet running out of the room.

Lucius peered at his wife over the top of the newspaper, "Perhaps we should just put a wrinkle-resistant charm on her robes and let her sleep in those. It would certainly make our mornings smoother."

There was a pink flush in Narcissa's cheeks as she joined him at the table. "I'm not going to encourage this kind of behavior, Lucius." She jerked the teapot towards her, and sloshed the tea into her cup, "I blame you for this. Ever since you let her sit in on that Wizengamot hearing she's been trying to argue her way out of everything."

He could not help feeling pleased, "She's going to be quite the politician one day."

His wife shot him an irritated look, "No hearings for Draco. Ever. I don't think I could handle two of them."

"No hearings for Draco," he agreed. Draco did not seem to care much for the Ministry anyway. He was far more interested in Quidditch. So Lucius reserved his Saturdays for playing a modified version of Quidditch in the makeshift pitch he had set up on their lawn.

But while his Saturdays belonged to Draco, his Wednesdays belonged to Hermione. Every week he took her to the Ministry, where she drank in everything with a refreshing eagerness.

He glanced again at Narcissa, who was moodily nursing her tea.

"Has Draco woken up yet?" He asked mildly, trying to distract her from her thoughts.

She shook her head, "He wasn't feeling well last night, so I figured I'd let him sleep for a few extra hours."

"I told him not to eat that third piece of cake."

She smiled fondly, "He's a little boy, Lucius. What do you expect?"

"Well, I hope he feels better."

There was a bang as Hermione threw open the dining room door and ran towards him. Her cheeks were bright pink and she panted as she stood in front of him.

"Papa!" _pant _"can't reach-" _pant _"buttons! Would you-" _pant _"please!?" She turned around so that he could button up the back of her green dress.

"Hold still, Mione," he laughed, bending to button the dress. "There! All done."

"Thank you!" She flashed him a wide grin, which he returned.

Narcissa cleared her throat, "Let me see."

Hermione obediently moved to stand in front of Narcissa, and clasped her hands behind her back as the blonde examined her.

"Much better," approved Narcissa, "It just needs-" she waved her wand, and conjured a sage green ribbon the exact color of Hermione's dress. With expert hands she tied the ribbon into Hermione's hair. It had taken her months to master Hermione's bushy mane, but she had finally found the right concoction of hair potions so that the unruly mess had been tamed into ringlets.

"Perfect," her hand rested briefly on Hermione's shoulder, and then she gave the girl a gentle push. "Don't forget your cloak."

Lucius watched the interaction closely, and then glanced down quickly at the Prophet when Narcissa looked back over to him.

"Are you ready Papa?" Hermione chirped, looking over expectantly.

"Of course, sweetheart," he folded the Prophet, and laid it beside his empty teacup, "Would you like to fetch to Floo box? I'll meet you in the study."

The little girl nodded eagerly, and took off.

"Don't let her eat too many sweets," Narcissa commented with a knowing look. "Last week she was talking to herself in her room for hours after her bedtime."

"She was just excited. She's a little girl, Cissy." He slid his hand through his hair with a sigh, "But I'll keep the sweets to a minimum."

"I just don't want her to get sick again. She needs a regular sleep schedule."

There was something in her eyes that made him soften, "The nightmares are over, Cissy. They won't be coming back."

Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. "And if you see Severus remind him that he agreed to come for Sunday dinner."

"I will, dear. Is there anything else, or do you want me to make Hermione wait even longer?"

"That's all, have a nice day."

He stooped to kiss the top of her head, "Tell Draco we said good-morning," Then he headed upstairs to his study, where an eager five year old paced.

He held her close as they used the Floo, and laughed as she squirmed to get down once they arrived.

"Papa can I have a sickle for the fountain, please?" She darted across the atrium, and leaned over the fountain's edge to look into the water. "I want to make a wish!" she chirped unnecessarily.

He fished one out of his pocket, and tried not to laugh out loud as she clutched it to her chest and screwed up her face in concentration.

A moment later the coin plopped almost anticlimactically into the water a moment later, and she turned to beam up at him.

"And what did you wish for?" He asked, taking her hand and steering her towards the lifts.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smile did not fade, "You know I can't tell you, Papa! It only counts if it's a secret!" She shook a finger, as if she were the parent and he the child, "One should never speak a wish out loud if they want it to come true."

He did laugh then, and squeezed her hand in his. "My apologies, then. I stand corrected."

She giggled, and swung their hands as made their rounds. They visited the courtrooms first. Lucius, as promised, did not take Hermione into one of the cavernous rooms. He did, however, allow her to peer curiously in through a cracked doorway while he spoke to one of his acquaintances.

"Papa," she asked once he had finished conversing, "what's counter-fitting?"

"Do you mean counterfeiting?"

"That's what I said!" She said in exasperation. "What is it?"

"It's when you make something fake that looks like something valuable."

Her little brow furrowed in confusion, "Like what?"

"Well, like if I gave you a twig and told you it was a wand."

"Wouldn't I know it was a twig when I tried to do a spell?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, "but suppose I was a very talented counterfeiter who charmed the twig to shoot sparks. I could sell it to some unsuspecting schoolboy for a fortune, and then disappear before he realized it was useless. Or suppose I made toy money feel like a real Galleon. By the time the charm wore off I could have run away to France-"

"But wouldn't the Aurors catch you?"

Lucius smiled, "I don't think they could catch your dear Papa, do you?"

She chewed her lip for a moment, and then shook her head. "No, you're much too clever Papa."

"I'm glad you think so. Let's keep that to ourselves, sweetheart. A good Slytherin never brags about their talents in public." He winked at her, and she scrunched up half her face in an attempt to wink back.

"Lucius!"

Lucius turned to see a tall, smiling man wave from the doorway of one of the offices.

"Andrew! I thought you were in Belgium until Monday." Lucius steered Hermione towards his old school friend,

"I decided to come home early," Andrew ushered them into his large office. The enchanted windows were bright and sunny this morning, and they illuminated the wall opposite Andrew's desk, which shone with plaques commemorating his service to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It always unnerved Lucius that he was so close to a high-ranking official in the DMLE. He and Andrew had been school friends, and then it had been Andrew who defended Lucius during the investigations following Voldemort's fall. He had been among the few Purebloods who were neither blood traitors or supporters of Voldemort's cause, and that made him an invaluable friend.

The man had no idea that Lucius _had not_ been under the influence of the Imperius Curse during his service to the Dark Lord, and his unwavering trust always made Lucius feel a bit guilty.

Hermione instantly shot over to the typewriter that clacked away independently in the corner. Lucius knew that it typed a summary of the Auror Department's arrests and investigations, and he looked over to Andrew.

"It's fine," the man waved a hand, and moved to lean against his desk. "Nothing that Narcissa would disapprove of, I think Moody's investigating a rabbit smuggling operation."

Lucius arched a brow, but decided he did not want to know. If it was interesting Hermione would tell him all about it.

They spoke for a few moments, catching up on each other's family. Lucius was happy to brag about Draco's flying lessons, and Hermione's aptitude for learning, and Andrew shared a few anecdotes on his three daughters.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on Hermione. "My youngest is about Hermione's age. I'm sure she'd love a playmate- her sisters are always telling her she's too young to play with them. Perhaps we should set something up."

Lucius nodded carefully, considering this. "It might do Hermione some good to have a girl to play with. She and Draco are very close, of course- the boy worships her."

"Well then it would be good for her to have an equal!" Andrew laughed, and Lucius felt a twitch or annoyance.

"Hermione!" yelled the man, motioning for her to come over. "How would you like a new friend?"

Her little eyes widened in curiosity, and she listened as Andrew described his youngest.

"-she's a little boisterous, but I'm sure the two of you would be close as sisters in no time. I hear you love to read-"

"Oh yes!" gushed Hermione, "Papa just got me all the 'Tales of Young Morgana' books!" She glowed at the mention of the picture books that she loved so much.

"Lottie loves those books! And she has all the dolls and toys that go along with it. Including Percival the Pegasus."

"Percival isn't supposed to come out for months," Lucius said over Hermione's squeal. He had been hearing about that pegasus for weeks, and he had intended to pick one up as a birthday present for Hermione.

"A friend sent one over as a thank-you for helping her get out of a little trouble. Would you like to see it sometime?" He asked Hermione.

The girl seemed to be mute with surprise, and she nodded so vigorously that Lucius was certain her head was about to pop off. He could not help but feel irritated that Andrew had not allowed him to speak to Narcissa about it, and then bring the subject up on his own, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"I'll have Anne owl Narcissa about the details," Andrew promised a few minutes later when they left his office. "We'll see you soon!"

"Give my regards to your family," Lucius nodded, hoping that his smile looked a lot more genuine than it felt.

They continued along, but now Lucius was much quieter than before. This was his least favorite part of their visits. He could already feel the headache pulsing behind his eyes, but Dumbledore thought this was a good idea. And what Dumbledore wants…

"Arthur!" Hermione practically sang as she ran down the corridor. "Arthur!"

A familiar redhead stuck his head out one of the doors, and smiled broadly, "Hermione! What a surprise."

Lucius stood near enough to keep an eye on them, and pulled the prophet from an inside pocket in his robes.

Dumbledore had encouraged the interactions between Hermione and Mr. Weasley with the reminder that it was a way for Hermione to learn about her Muggle heritage without Lucius needing to "completely recover from his prejudices."

So Lucius grudgingly allowed his daughter to visit Weasley every week and ask endless questions about the various trinkets he kept in his office.

He could hear snippets of their conversation as he skimmed the Prophet, Hermione was asking about a photo, and Weasley was jabbering on about his brood.

"_-first Weasley daughter in generations-"_

The Holyhead Harpies were getting a new chaser.

"_-I've never seen Molly so angry, I thought she would spit fire!" _

Someone had been caught using the Imperius curse on a Muggle. Apparently the idiot had tried to make the poor Muggle attempt to rob Gringotts.

"_-I have two brothers, and Molly had two brothers, unfortunately-"_

There was a group of youths who were breaking into homes and stealing everything. Lucius actually read this article, as it was noted that they "targeted noble houses". He decided that they would visit the Aurors next and see what protections they recommended. Hermione would probably love learning about warding charms.

"_-the Death Eaters, who followed a very bad wizard. The worst wizard to ever hold a wand, I'd say." _

Lucius dropped the paper, his blood boiling. Then, before he could move to ask Weasley _what in Merlin's name had possessed him to tell a five year old about the Dark Lord_, he heard Hermione cry out.

"No, don't say that. Don't say that!"

"Hermione," he gasped, running into the office, and nearly trampling his daughter, who had come sobbing out to find him.

He scooped her into his arms, and felt her arms tighten around his neck. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and whimpering "Stop, stop!" into his neck.

He looked up into the eyes of a very pale Arthur Weasley, "What did you _do_?" He seethed.

"Nothing, I swear!" He held up his hands, "All I did was say-"

"I heard what you said," scathed Lucius, "and I don't think you should repeat it, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and swept away.

Hermione did not calm down when they got home. Lucius tried everything he could to calm her down, but to his surprise it wasn't until Narcissa took over with a lullaby from her childhood that the girl stopped crying. She looked up at them with her miserable eyes, and whimpered, "I'm not, Papa, I'm not."

"Of course not, sweetheart." He kissed her on the forehead, and stood, "We'll be right outside the door."

Narcissa followed him into the corridor, "What was that about?"

"I don't know. She was talking to Weasley, and she was fine. Then he…" Lucius exhaled and slammed his fist against the wall, making the portraits that lined the corridor rattle and let out little screams. "_Damn him!_ He started talking about the Dark Lord-"

When the story was done, Narcissa peeked into Hermione's room and sighed. "She's sleeping. Let's go downstairs and write Dumbledore. We're going to find another way for Hermione to learn about Muggles. She's never going to speak to that man again!"

The afternoon was spent writing letters. Several went to Dumbledore, one to Weasley's supervisor, and then Narcissa sent a particularly vicious Howler to Weasley himself.

"We should do something to traumatize _his_ child," she hissed as she watched the owl fly away.

He laughed mirthlessly, "I think their lives must be traumatizing enough," he swirled the contents of his wine glass, and stared contemplatively at the burgundy liquid.

"You're probably right," she came over and sat beside him, laying her head against his in a rare show of affection.

The sky was darkening through the window, and the fire was crackling so merrily that he felt the tension begin to drain from his shoulder. Maybe the rest of the night would be peaceful. Perhaps after a night of sleep Hermione would be the same cheerful girl he knew, and they could put this whole incident behind them.

Then Draco burst into the room. "Mamma! Mione's hurt!"

Lucius was vaguely aware of Narcissa's voice saying, "Alright, Darling. You stay here and have a biscuit while we go check on your sister."

He had never moved so quickly in his life. He burst into her room, only to find it empty. A quick check in Draco's room revealed that it was empty as well.

"Lucius, in here!"

He sped down the corridor towards Narcissa's voice, and found her in their bedroom. She was cradling Hermione in her lap.

He sucked in a breath as he took in the cut on her arm, just under the scar Bellatrix had left years earlier. A pair of silver scissors lay open on the rug beside them, and he kicked them away.

"_Episkey!_" He sighed in relief as the cut vanished, leaving no trace.

"Sweetheart, what has gotten into you?"

She mumbled something incoherent, pressing her face against Narcissa.

"What's wrong, darling?" Narcissa crooned, stroking Hermione's hair. "Is it what that man said? Because-"

Hermione's shoulders shook, and she wailed louder, "I want to be a Malfoy!"

Lucius shared a shocked look with Narcissa. "You _are _a Malfoy, sweetheart."

"Not by blood!" She wrenched away from Narcissa, her face red, and scrunched up with tears. "I'm only a Malfoy by name. It doesn't count. I want to be a _real _Malfoy."

It would have been almost funny to see her throw such an uncharacteristic tantrum, except that it was terrifying. She let out another cry, and kicked her heels against the rug.

Then, Lucius had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly.

Hermione's hair was turning a familiar platinum blonde, and when she looked up at him her eyes were the exact shade of blue as Narcissa's. In a moment she looked exactly like Draco would if he were female.

Her sobs quieted, and she asked in a broken whisper, "Why can't I be a _real _Malfoy?"

He opened his mouth to contradict this, but to his immense surprise his wife got there first.

"Darling, you are already a real Malfoy." She scooted closer, and pulled a slightly hesitant Hermione into her lap. "You don't need blonde hair," she tapped Hermione's head with her wand, and the chestnut color flooded back into her hair, "or blue eyes-" she passed her wand in front of Hermione's eyes so that they became their usual honey brown, "to be our daughter."

"My real parents-"

"Are in this room," Narcissa said in a firm voice. "You are Hermione Malfoy, our daughter, and nothing can change that, right?" She looked up at Lucius expectantly.

His chest was so full of pride and love that it hurt to speak. "Right."

"Promise?" Hermione asked meekly.

"We promise," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of her skin concerned him, and he decided to floo Severus once they were done, to see if he had some fever-reducing potions.

Narcissa sighed, "We'll go downstairs now, you've scared Draco half to death. But know that tomorrow we will be having a very long talk about safety. It is not ok to play with scissors. You could have seriously injured yourself."

Lucius was pretty certain that she was not _playing_, but he decided to talk to Narcissa about that later.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, tears starting again.

"Hush, it will be fine. But first we need to get you out of this nightgown. Look, you've stained it."

Hermione looked down at the small red splotch on her skirt, and a triumphant smile came over her features.

Her next words chilled Lucius to the bone.

"See, Bella? I _told_ you it wasn't mud."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6: The Wubble

"Sit down, Lucius, I'm certain that Hermione is in no danger."

There were few things as infuriating as being told to sit in your own home. Lucius raked a hand through his hair, and muttered a sticking charm to ensure that the door did not swing shut. When he was certain it would remain open, he stalked over to join Narcissa and Dumbledore at Hermione's tea table. He refused to have this meeting in his study, or Narcissa's sitting room, as both were too far away to hear if Hermione cried out.

Only Albus Dumbledore could make his children's playroom look like a headmaster's office. He was sitting sidesaddle on an enlarged rocking horse, and looked much more at home than Narcissa, who was sitting on a stool designed to look like a pink rabbit.

Lucius enlarged one of Draco's chairs (designed to make the young wizard feel as if he were riding a dragon) and drummed his fingers on the table.

Narcissa's cool hand reached out and wrapped around his, stilling it.

"Albus," Lucius wondered when she started using Dumbledore's first name, "what's going on?"

"I can't know for sure," Dumbledore pulled something small and yellow from his pocket, and popped it into his mouth. "You said that she injured herself?"

"Apparently to prove a point," said Lucius, his voice strained.

"You don't think that my sister has-has found a way to _possess_ Hermione, do you?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "She bears none of the classic symptoms of possession, Narcissa. I think we would have known about this a lot sooner had that been the case."

"So then how did she speak to Hermione?" Narcissa asked, her hand squeezing Lucius' just a little too tightly.

"I have a theory-" Dumbledore stroked the cotton horse mane, "She was upset this morning after speaking to Arthur Weasley?"

"We told you that already!" Burst Lucius, "Everything _we_ know, _you_ know, so stop talking without saying anything, or else I'll-"

There was a crash behind him, and he broke off abruptly. Worry clenched him, and he turned, half expecting to see Hermione standing there covered in blood-

He relaxed as his eyes landed on a crop of sleep-tousled blonde hair.

"Mione's sick?" Draco asked, pronouncing her name so that it sounded more like "Miney." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "She's still in bed."

"Yes," Narcissa said, getting up and stroking his hair back into place. "She's not feeling well, darling, so you'll have to play by yourself today."

"m'kay," Draco yawned.

Lucius watched her fuss with Draco's robes and knew that she was reassuring herself that their son was ok.

"Can I take her Colin?" Draco asked, blinking up at Narcissa.

Dumbledore's delighted voice asked, "Colin?"

The boy nodded eagerly, "When I'm not feeling well, Mamma brings me Colin 'cause he makes me feel better."

"Yes, Darling," Narcissa kissed him on top of his head, "that's very sweet. Why don't you go get him, and then we'll go give him to her?"

"Why don't we all go give him to her?"

Lucius turned to look at Dumbledore incredulously.

"I want to speak to her," explained the Headmaster. He was already getting to his feet.

Draco ran to his bedroom to find Colin- a green velvet hound- and the adults allowed him to fuss over Hermione for a few minutes.

Lucius busied himself by straightening the dolls on top of Hermione's bookshelf. Last year they had painted her room to look like the Enchanted Forest from the _Young Morgana_ books. It was done in purple and green, with trees that fluttered peacefully in the painted wind. Several unicorns flitted in and out of the foliage.

The dark wooden floor was polished to a high shine, and cut in half with a blue rug that was enchanted to look like a flowing river. The "river" led to Hermione's bed, a tall, silver four-poster with dark green hangings.

He listened to Draco chatter on about how much better Hermione would feel once she spent some time with Colin. Lucius took in the girl's tired countenance, and hoped that they could get the conversation with Dumbledore over as soon as possible, before she passed out from exhaustion.

Fortunately Draco, though devoted to his sister, had a very short attention span. Narcissa convinced him to go back to the playroom and draw Hermione a "get well soon" card.

"I'll be back soon, Mione!" he promised, pushing Colin into her side and bouncing off of the bed.

Dumbledore chuckled as he watched Draco zoom out of the room. "You are a very lucky girl to have such a brother," he told her, easing into a chair by her bedside.

Hermione, who looked so small beneath her blankets, stared up at him with apprehension. "Am I in trouble, Uncle Albus?"

"No, my dear," soothed Dumbledore, "but we need to have a serious conversation about your friend."

Hermione paled, "Which one?"

"Hermione!" Narcissa admonished from the foot of the bed, "You know very well which one."

The girl sat up immediately, her face coloring, "No! We can't talk about her! I won't!"

Lucius sighed, and moved to sit beside his wife. "Sweetheart, if your friend won't let you tell anyone about her than she might not be the best friend for you to have. People only tell others not to speak about them if they have something to hide."

"Please, Papa," Hermione cried, her eyes welling with tears, "She didn't mean it! She just lost her temper a little bit. She already apologized."

"Apologized for what?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Come here, Sweetheart." Lucius pulled her into his lap, and tucked her blankets around her so that she would feel safe. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to feel as if she was facing off against all three of them.

"Now," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "what did she apologize for?"

Hermione still seemed unsure, and he was grateful when Narcissa spoke up.

"You won't get in trouble, Darling, as long as you don't lie."

He felt Hermione take a few deep breaths. "Bella apologized for yelling at me when I told her it wasn't nice to call Arthur a…" She twisted to look up at him, "Do I have to say what she called him, Papa? It wasn't nice."

"No, sweetheart. Not if you don't want to."

"Why was she so mad at Arthur?" the Headmaster leaned closer, his expression intent.

Hermione swallowed, "He said something bad about the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore nodded, "And does she speak to you about the Dark Lord?"

"Oh yes!"

"And what does she say?"

Lucius felt as if his insides had turned to ice as his daughter launched into a description of how warm and wonderful Voldemort was.

"-When he rises he's going to train me to be the best witch ever! Well, almost. Bella says I can't possibly be as good as she is-"

"Does 'Bella' know when he's going to rise?"

"Soon, I hope. Bella says he just needs a little time, but he'll be back. And when he comes back Bella will be able to come and play dolls with me for real."

"Tell me why you hurt yourself."

Lucius could have kicked Dumbledore for his tactlessness. Luckily, Hermione did not seem to care. She sat up a little straighter, and her voice was impassioned as she answered the question.

"Bella called me a bad word. She said I had mud in my veins and I wanted to prove that she was lying." she sat up a little straighter, "But I _don't _have blood in my veins. It's all blood!"

Narcissa gave a twitch, and he felt as if she must feel as disturbed by this conversation as he.

"That's what she apologized for. She feels bad for upsetting me. She says she never meant any of it."

Dumbledore folded his hands over his stomach. "Can she hear what we're saying right now?"

Hermione shrank into him, and he tightened his hold in reassurance, "Yes." Her head bobbed up and down. "She doesn't like it."

"Why not?"

"She thinks you're going to do something bad."

"Oh? What does she think I'm going to do?"

"Make her go away... But you won't, will you uncle Albus?"

Lucius had to hand it to Dumbledore, the man's smile never dimmed as he said "Well, there's nothing for you to worry about, Hermione. You've done nothing wrong."

His sweet, overly-trusting girl took that as confirmation that 'Bella' would not be going away. She sighed contentedly, and allowed him to move her off of his lap so that he, Narcissa, and Dumbledore could converse in the corridor.

"Albus, what is going on!" Narcissa hissed as soon as they stepped out of Hermione's room.

"Keep your voice down Cissy, she'll hear you." Lucius craned his neck to make sure Hermione was still tucked into bed.

Dumbledore tugged off his spectacles and used his sleeve to clean them. "Does she still have that scar from the incident with Bellatrix?"

"The one from when she was a baby?" confirmed Narcissa. "Yes… do you think it's cursed? Did Bellatrix-"

"I don't think Bellatrix intended for the bond to happen." Dumbledore began, but he was cut off almost immediately by Lucius.

"Bond? What Bond?"

Dumbledore settled his glasses back on his nose. "When Hermione was a baby Bellatrix came and attacked her with a knife-"

"You don't need to speak to me like I'm a child, I already know-"

The older man continued as if Lucius hadn't spoken, "If Bellatrix's blood was on the knife Hermione's magic might have binded it to her magical core-creating a bond. The night terrors she experienced when she was younger… I think those were caused by Bellatrix's incarceration at Azkaban. The timeline adds up, and they started without warning, correct?"

"Yes," Narcissa breathed.

Lucius looked at her, and then narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore, "So how do we break the bond?"

"We don't."

Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean _we don't_?"

"I believe that there is nothing to be done. The bond exists, there has never been a successful separation in the history of accidental bindings. To try and cut Bellatrix out would be like slicing out a part of Hermione. The damage would be catastrophic."

Lucius was going to be sick. His eyes focused on one of the photographs that lined the walls. In it, a three year old Hermione held Draco on her lap, and waved happily at Lucius. "So there's nothing to be done?"

"No," said Dumbledore carefully, "I wouldn't say that."

Lucius flexed his hand in an effort to keep it from wrapping around Dumbledore's throat. "Then what would you say?"

"We can put in a barrier to keep Bellatrix from speaking to Hermione."

Narcissa shifted closer, "Will that work?" Her eyes fixed, unblinking, on Dumbledore's face.

"Not forever," the old wizard warned, "Eventually- around puberty, I'd say- Hermione's magic will attack the barrier and remove it because it should not be in place. But by that time we'll have taught Hermione how to be an Occlumens-"

"She's too young," Lucius said dismissively. "Only skilled witches and wizards are taught-"

"There have been numerous children who have become very successful Occlumens. We will teach her the basics, and slowly build from there. As long as we continue to emphasize the importance of her practicing her skills there is no reason why she shouldn't succeed."

Narcissa seemed more optimistic than Lucius felt about this plan. "And it will block Bellatrix completely?"

"Not completely," sighed Dumbledore, "Bellatrix will not be able to speak, or communicate with Hermione directly, but the bond will remain intact. Hermione will still be able to feel her emotions, and Bellatrix will be able to feel Hermione's as well."

"Then what's the point?"

Narcissa shot him a dirty look, "If Bellatrix can't speak to Hermione, she can't tell her how wonderful the Dark Lord is! She can't tell her to kill us all in our sleep."

"If she's feeling Bellatrix's emotions then she's going to- Cissy we can't let that happen! She's too young to feel the effects of Azkaban all the time. For whatever reason, Bellatrix has found a way to keep her emotions to herself. Would you agree, Dumbledore?" He spat, feeling as if he was dangling above a pool of Grindylows.

"That would make sense."

Somehow that didn't make him feel better.

"Then maybe we should just, leave things as they are." Did he really just suggest that they leave the raging, psychopathic maniac in his daughter's head?

His wife scoffed, "Absolutely not, Hermione's just as endangered with Bellatrix there anyway."

The headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I may have a solution."

Both of them stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to elaborate. When he remained silent, Lucius prompted, "Would you care to share the solution?"

"I'd rather not say anything until I know for sure." Dumbledore began striding down the corridor with long, purposeful steps, and the two Malfoy's had to hurry to keep up with him.

"I'll look into it at once. When I learn more I'll be in contact. Keep her calm, and don't say anything about our conversation. The less Bellatrix knows, the better."

"Is it safe though?" asked Narcissa, "What about Draco, could he be in danger?"

They had come to the staircase, and Dumbledore stopped short, causing Lucius to bump into him.

"My apologies Lucius, I sometimes forget that I'm not as fast as I used to be," the Headmaster said, turning to smile at Narcissa. His eyes did not have their trademark twinkle. "I understand your fears, Narcissa. But Hermione has been connected with Bellatrix for years without incident. Keep an eye on her, of course, but I have no reason to believe that Bellatrix is a danger to you or your family."

"But she's a danger to Hermione!" Lucius spat.

"A moment ago you were prepared for Hermione to face that danger if it meant sparing her from the effects of the Dementors," retorted Dumbledore cooly. "I am trying to find a solution that will suit us all, and keep Hermione from both dangers. Believe me, Lucius. I have the child's best interests at heart."

Lucius did not particularly believe these words, "You just want to keep your spy as intact as possible."

Something shifted in the air, and Dumbledore pulled himself up to his full height. The smile was still in place, but his eyes were a blaze of blue fire.

"I can see that you are upset, and so I won't take up anymore of your time," he said softly. "Narcissa, I will come when I find a solution. Look for my owl."

"O-of course," Narcissa said, eyes wide as she looked back and forth between the two men.

Dumbledore gave a stiff nod, turned on his heel, and trotted down the stairs. A minute later the ornate front door slammed shut behind him.

"Sometimes," Lucius swallowed the lump in his throat, "I think that man is worse than the Dark Lord."

Narcissa turned sharply to him, "Lucius! You can't mean that?"

He glared darkly at the closed door. "I don't know anymore. I just don't know."

* * *

><p>Ronald Weasley was used to being the target of his brother's pranks. He had been locked in more cupboards than he could count, tricked into swallowing all sorts of household items, and put in harm's way so many times that his mother automatically said <em>Episkey<em> every time he walked into the room.

So when he found himself stuck to the bottom of the kitchen table with his lips sealed shut from joke taffy he was not surprised. In a few hours, when his mother checked on each of her children to make sure they were asleep she would find his bed empty. He hoped she would let him stay in the room when she punished Fred and George.

The dark kitchen was suddenly thrown into bright light, and he heard his parents bustle into the kitchen.

"-what you were thinking, Arthur! Did you really talk about-"

"To be fair, Molly, any normal child would have already known that You-know-who is a bad sort. There's something going on. The way he manhandled her out of the office-"

"He didn't?!"

"It certainly seemed that way. The poor girl was screaming and kicking. It was obvious she didn't want to go with him, so naturally I filed a report-"

"You don't think he would ever hurt one of his own children?"

There was a scrape of chairs, and his father's worn woolen slippers came into view.

"Remember what I told you, about the file I accidentally found in the family records?"

His mother's voice grew irritated, "Yes, and I still think you shouldn't have looked. It's none of your business if the child was ado-"

"But it would make sense that Malfoy wouldn't have the same qualms about mistreating someone he viewed as a charity case."

Ron's nose scrunched up in confusion. Why couldn't adults talk about things that made sense? Like Quidditch, or sweets?

"But there was a picture of them in the Prophet last winter, when they attended the Father-Daughter luncheon at the Ministry. They looked very close."

"Pictures _lie_, Molly."

There was a _thunk!_ as his mother slammed something down on the table, and Ron thought for a brief moment that he might become unstuck. Sadly for him, whatever the twins used held true, and he glowered at his father's feet.

"I don't think Narcissa Malfoy would have sent that nasty howler if she did not care for the child."

"More like she cared about her image. No one likes it when a child makes a scene in public."

"I think that you're determined to think the worst of them. Oh Arthur, did you _really _file a report?"

"I did." His father's voice, usually so cheerful, was surprisingly harsh. "There's something off about that family, and I will not stand by as an innocent is punished."

"Poor dear. It sounds like she was upset."

"It was… unsettling. Believe me, Molly. If you had been there you would understand.

There was a sudden rap on the kitchen door, and Ron's ears perked in excitement. Both of his parents leapt to their feet.

"Who could- No one's used that door since…"

"Stay there, Molly."

There was a creak of the lock sliding out of place, and his father shouted-

"Dumbledore!"

Ron's eyes widened, and for the first time he was glad to have been a victim of Fred and George's pranks.

"Hello, Arthur, Molly. I hope you can forgive me for the late hour, but there was something I had to tend to this evening, and I'm afraid this discussion cannot wait until morning. I promise to be brief."

"Of course, Albus," his mother said, "come in, come in, tea?"

"No, thank you. I'm afraid that my night is far from over. I really do mean to be brief."

"What is it?" Asked his father.

"I came across a report filed this afternoon, and I wanted to address it in person. I understand that you are concerned about the safety of young Miss Malfoy?"

"I am," his father affirmed.

"Your fears are unfounded. I came here to assure you that Miss Malfoy is very well taken care of by parents who love and adore her-"

"With all due respect, Dumbledore, today Hermione was-"

"-overwhelmed and exhausted. I checked in on her myself, and she is perfectly well. I understand your concern, Arthur. It is commendable that you care so deeply, but in this particular case I believe your prejudices are clouding your judgement. I, myself, visit regularly with Hermione- we are related, after all- and I am content with the fact that few children have ever been as well looked after as she and her brother."

"Did you say related?" his mother asked.

There was a light chuckle, "I am aware that you found yourself with access to the Malfoy family file, Arthur- No need to look alarmed, Molly, I am not here to judge. Sometimes we cannot help ourselves- yes, I am a related to Hermione, and given the circumstances I decided to take a special interest in her upbringing. I had a mind to adopt her once, myself! But when I got to witness the special bond she has with her parents- Lucius in particular, I knew that she was in a better home than I could ever provide."

There was a deep breath, and the old man continued.

"Which is why I have destroyed your report."

His mother gasped, and his father exclaimed, "Surely and investigation is in order!"

"I think an investigation would do more harm than good. Like I said, I am monitoring the situation, I have deemed it safe, and I hope you will bring any future concerns to me. The Malfoy's are not the people you think them to be, Arthur."

Had Ron been a little older he _might _have caught the hint in Dumbledore's voice. As it was, he had grown very bored, and was counting the cracks on one of the floorboards.

"I'm afraid I must be going. Think about what I've said. If you are not convinced you may owl to arrange a meeting where we can discuss this further. Thank you for your time."

Strained goodbyes were exchanged, there was a groan as the door opened, closed, and then the sound of the lock sliding back into place.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," His mother said, and there was a sound of tea pouring into a cup.

"I don't know," his father admitted, "I trust Dumbledore, but he wasn't there! We need to keep an eye on the girl. Look out for her, let her know that she's not alone-"

"Oh Arthur, she's going to be fine."

"Maybe. But that family never does anything without a reason. Why take in another child when they already have an heir? Something is going on."

"Or she's just incredibly lucky, and Dumbledore might have been correct when he said that they aren't the people we think they are."

"No," something in his father's tone made Ron listen. And the next words would be the only thing he remembered of this conversation. "You can never trust a Malfoy because everything they do is for themselves. They'll make an allegiance with you one moment, and then turn around and curse you the next. If Dumbledore believes them, that means he's been fooled."

"Arthur, what exactly are you saying?"

"I don't know," there was a tired chuckle, "I've been awake too long, I think. Don't mind me, Molly dear, I'm sure a good night's sleep and a proper conversation with Dumbledore will clear this whole thing up. How was your day?"

"Oh, you'll never guess what word Fred taught Ginny today…"

And as they switched to the lighter conversation of their children, both Weasley's were unaware that their youngest son was staring wide eyed at the floor as he came to a conclusion about a family he had never met.

_The Malfoy's were evil. So evil that they had tricked the only person who could stop them, Dumbledore, into believing they were good. You can never trust a Malfoy. _

And without Dumbledore, who would stop this tyrannical family from taking over the entire Wizarding World?

* * *

><p>Three days later, Narcissa paced anxiously up and down the corridor between her children's bedrooms. She had not slept since her last conversation with Dumbledore, and finally the Headmaster had written that he had found a solution.<p>

_I will arrive tonight after 10_, the letter had read_, Make sure she is asleep_.

There had been a healthy dose of sleeping potion in Hermione's bedtime snack. Now the girl slept peacefully, her arms clasped around Colin.

Narcissa leaned against the doorframe and watched Hermione sleep, her chest a flutter of emotions.

As Hermione had been drifting off to to sleep she had called out "_Mother?" _

"_Yes, Hermione?" _

"_I didn't know that you and... Bella were friends." _

"_What makes you think that."_

"_Because Bella said to tell you that she loves you…. and that… she didn't mean..." _

Narcissa had tried to get Hermione to finish her sentence, but the girl had already fallen asleep.

Now, several hours later, she studied her daughter's face and wondered-briefly-if it would have been so bad…

She shook her head to clear those thoughts. Of course they were doing the right thing. Hermione had enough to worry about without Bellatrix's voice in her head all of the time.

Narcissa looked around at the sound of footsteps, and stared as she took in Dumbledore's acid green rubber gloves that stretched up to his elbows. Lucius, wearing a similar pair of gloves, carried a sack made from the same material.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the moving lump at the bottom of the sack. "What's this?"

"The solution to our problems," sighed Dumbledore. "Lucius, if you'll just hold it still- yes, like that. Here we are."

He reached into the sack and gently pulled out a small, white puppy.

"You've brought Hermione a pet?" Narcissa tried to keep the skepticism from her voice.

Dumbledore looked mildly amused, "Yes, but it's not just any pet. I've brought her a Wubble!"

Apparently he had expected her to be more excited by this proclamation, but she found herself unable to respond to his unhelpful statement.

Lucius, apparently, knew more about strange dog breeds than she did. He leant closer to the animal and whispered, "The Nursery dog? I thought they were extinct."

"Not extinct, but almost. There is only one breeding pair in existence right now. Luckily, the owner owed me a favor."

"I'm sorry," Narcissa stepped a little closer, noting the way Dumbledore drew the puppy away from her, "but what exactly _is _a Wubble?"

"A Wubble, or Nursery dog, as they are sometimes called, is a dog that was developed to help children who had been exposed to trauma of some kind. They were mostly given to Royal and noble children who had witnessed the murder of their loved ones. It's a way to track Hermione's moods- just Hermione's, not Bellatrix's.

"When Hermione touches this puppy, it will bond to her emotions. Somehow-I must admit, I'm not entirely sure- it will convey what Hermione is feeling. That way if Hermione is scared, or distressed, you will be alerted if Hermione herself can't tell you. Additionally, Wubbles have a calming effect on the person they're bonded to. I hope that it will help her sleep soundly."

"So you want to create another bond?" Narcissa scoffed, "How many things do you want in Hermione's head? Let's just bind her to all of us!"

"Cissa," protested Lucius, "This isn't the same. The pup will be bonded to Hermione, but Hermione will not be bonded to it. It's a pet, a pet with calming properties, nothing more."

"And the gloves? Are we to wear gloves for the rest of our lives?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Not at all. Once the Wubble has bonded with a human, it will stay bonded for life- her life. After she touches him and the bond is complete the gloves will no longer be necessary."

"Him?"

Lucius smirked, "Surely you won't hold that against him, Cissa."

She opened her mouth to retort, and promptly closed it. "Fine." Exhaling slowly, she stepped back towards Hermione's room. "Let's get this over with. I don't want to worry about it anymore."

The dog was placed back in the sack, and the three adults entered Hermione's room.

Narcissa felt slightly sick as she peered down at Hermione. "How are you going to do this?"

"First we will have her bond with the Wubble, that way she can be shielded as much as possible from Bellatrix when we put in the barrier."

They watched as he gently set the puppy down by Hermione. He gently pressed it against the bare skin of Hermione's forearm.

There was a flash of light that sent had all three adults recoiling. The puppy, who had been snow white, was now a light blue. Narcissa held her breath as she watched the puppy circle around Hermione, and finally curl up against the curve of her neck.

She exhaled shakily, and watched Dumbledore begin placing the barrier. A thin silver mist flowed from the tip of his wand. It twisted over itself rapidly, until it resembled a very tight net. With a twitch of his wand, the barrier seemed to melt into Hermione's skin.

"This is the difficult part," whispered Dumbledore, a shine of sweat on his brow. "I need to place the barrier."

Hermione's brow furrowed, and the puppy let out a whine and rolled closer.

It was faster than she expected. There was a moment when the puppy's coat darkened, and then his snout glowed golden, and his color returned to the light blue.

"_Occlumens!" _ Dumbledore whispered.

Hermione shifted in her sleep, and let out a faint whine. Both Narcissa and Lucius reached to stroke her hair.

"It's done." Dumbledore smiled tiredly. "Bellatrix is no longer in her head." He pulled out a snowy handkerchief and mopped his brow with a sigh.

Lucius gently tucked the blankets around his daughter, "What should we do now?" He straightened, and began stripping off the gloves. "Should we Obliviate her? Get rid of the memories?"

"I don't think that's necessary," Dumbledore threw his gloves into the sack, and held it open to that Lucius could do the same. "Young children are often able to rationalize things that no one else can, and the imaginary friends of our childhood are often forgotten."

Narcissa did not feel like pointing out that Bellatrix was _not _an imaginary friend, but she was very ready for the Headmaster to leave their home. The last few days had been a blur of emotions, and she needed some time to process what had happened.

Dumbledore lingered for only a few more moments. He left with a promise to stop by in a few days.

Narcissa watched him go from Hermione's window. Once he had disappeared through the gates she moved to join Lucius by Hermione's bed.

His arm snaked around her shoulders, and she leaned against him, savoring the warmth.

"It's ok, Cissa. It's over. Hermione is ok."

His reassurance did not soothe her tension. "For now it's over. But Dumbledore said that Hermione's magic will break down the barrier on it's own. We're going to be dealing with this again in a few years."

"Not necessarily," argued Lucius gently, "She's a smart girl. We'll teach her Occlumency… She'll be prepared next time."

Narcissa wished that she could have as much faith in a six year old as her husband did. She reached out and picked up Colin, who had been pushed out of Hermione's arms by the snoring puppy, and hugged him to her chest. Inhaling deeply, she was surrounded by the peppermint scent of Hermione and Draco's soap.

"If Bellatrix mentions any of this to-"

"I know," said Lucius, his gaze fixed on their daughter. "I've been thinking the same thing. We've just got to hope that by the time she's reunited with the Dark Lord we've come up with a very good excuse. After all," he swallowed thickly, "Hermione's going to need all the help she can get if she's going to be…"

He trailed off, and Narcissa glanced up at him. His eyes glistened in the candlelight, and a bolt of guilt struck through her body.

She hugged Colin tighter. _Hermione will get through this, _she thought, _she's got three highly skilled teachers, and more nerve than any child I've ever met._ Yes, she was certain that if anyone could handle being a spy for Dumbledore-

But the thick lump in her throat had her pressing closer into Lucius' side.

What had they gotten themselves into?

* * *

><p><strong>Please leave a review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7: Elves and Alleys

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! They really help motivate me. **

* * *

><p><em>The silence was so heavy that it hurt. She was used the strange clanging, the bizarre screams and moans, the constant crash of the sea. <em>

_It had become as familiar as her own mind. As had the smooth, crooning voice that said "Don't be frightened." The voice that had always been there in the back of her mind, like a guardian angel. _

"_I'm not," she always said. Though she knew that the waver in her voice sometimes gave her away. The answering chuckle would always chase any lingering fear away. _

_So when she woke up to deafening silence she felt as if she knew, for the first time, what it really meant to be scared. _

"_Bella?" She whispered, both out loud and in her head. _

_There was nothing. No irritated snap, no slow 'good morning'. Just… nothing. _

_Except for fear. She felt it fully now. It seemed to vibrate from the walls of her mind and clasp her in it's unrelenting hold. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. _

"_**Lucius!**_" _She heard her mother scream. "__**Lucius, come quickly!**_"

"_Bella!" Hermione screamed inside of her mind, "Bella, help!" She couldn't breathe. "BELLA!" _

_She could hear her mother trying to soothe her, could feel someone's arms wrapped around her. _

_There was a pulse, and the strange feeling of a wet cloth being pulled over her face. _

_And then there was darkness. _

* * *

><p>Hermione woke with a start, her hand gripping the front of her nightgown in a panic. As usual, she could not remember what the dream had been about, but as she untangled herself from her blankets she decided that it must have been particularly awful.<p>

As if on cue, she heard a faint whine, and turned to see a tuft of pale orange fur sticking up from the the blankets. Her dog quickly wiggled from his cloth prison and launched himself into her lap.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his soft fur. "You look like a fox," she murmured, trying to mask her unease with teasing. "It's pretty. But I think I like you better in your normal color, Turnip." She pulled gently on one of his large, pointed ears, and felt the tension drain slowly from her body.

Turnip's orange fur was gradually changing to a soft blue, and when there was no trace of orange left she released him. He bounded off of the bed, and darted for the door.

With a yawn, Hermione slid her feet into her slippers. Remembering her mother's admonishments that she "must never leave your room in just a nightgown," she grabbed her housecoat and padded down the corridor after Turnip.

She came to a stop in front of a tapestry that listed several generations of Malfoys. Smiling fondly at the blue bushy tail that stuck out from under "Genthia Malfoy 1345-1516", she pulled the tapestry aside, and pushed open the door that Turnip sat against.

She and Draco had discovered the Servant's passages shortly after they had accidentally ruined one of the portraits in their mother's sitting room. They had needed a place to hide, and they spent the afternoon running from one passageway to the next.

Carefully avoiding the broken steps, she followed Turnip down the passageway, grinning as the smell of sausages hit her.

"It seems that Mardie is cooking early," she whispered to the eagerly attentive dog as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The door opened into the lavishly stocked pantry, and she crept silently into the kitchen.

One wall was taken up by an enormous stove, and a giant hearth took up the wall across from it. The ceiling rafters were dotted with bundles of dried herbs. Turnip trotted cheerfully over to the only other occupant of the room.

Mardie had been their Kitchen House Elf for as long as Hermione had been alive. She was more robust than any other elf Hermione had seen, and more outspoken.

"Missie's up awfully early," Mardie grumbled with a suspicious glare at Turnip.

The Wubble panted happily, inching closer and closer to the sizzling pan of sausages.

"Couldn't sleep," explained Hermione, pulling a stool out from a corner and perching on top of it. She beamed at the grumpy elf when a mug of steaming hot cider was dropped on the counter in front of her.

Mardie pulled a platter from one of the shelves above the stove and began piling it with sausage. There was a small, rough table against the wall opposite Hermione, and Mardie set the platter on that with a heavy _thunk! _Next, she went to the hearth, where a large loaf of bread had been stuck on a giant brass toasting fork. She pulled the bread free and began to tear it into large pieces. These too were placed on the platter.

Mardie pulled a slim silver bell from the folds of her tea-towel, and rang it.

Hermione sat up straighter, and watched the garden door expectantly. It slowly creaked open, and five house-elves filed in, taking their seat at the table. As they did so, they cast anxious glances at the girl who sat in the corner.

"Good morning," chirped Hermione.

Mardie scowled, and shook a finger in Hermione's direction. "Oh no you don't!" She rasped, "Master has ordered Mardie not to allow the young mistress to talk to the other elves. Missie has done quite enough!" She rounded on the elves at the table, "Respectable House Elves only talk to the family when they are summoned!"

"That's not true," huffed Hermione.

Mardie turned back to Hermione, and observed her with a beady eye.

"Missie looks rather flushed," she croaked, "perhaps she should go back to sleep for a few hours."

Hermione recognized this as a dismissal, and opened her mouth to argue. She knew from personal experience, however, that Mardie was impossible to argue with. Forcing her mouth into a smile, she tried to look as innocent as possible. "Thank you Mardie, I think I will. Do you think I could have something to tide me over until breakfast?" She pointed to the platter that was still piled high with sausage and bread.

The old elf continued to eye Hermione with suspicion, but she dutifully wrapped some food in a napkin, and passed it to the girl.

"Thank you, Mardie," Hermione was proud of how patient her voice sounded, and she did not call the elf out when she responded by snorting and turning back to the stove.

The fur around Turnip's ears did turn red though. The red stretched down to cover most of his head as he followed the stomping Hermione back up the servant's passage. It slowly faded back to blue as they entered Hermione's room.

Hermione carefully pushed a chair against her door so that it could not open unexpectedly, and walked over to the bare fireplace. As it was the end of July the fireplace had been cold for several months. Which made it the best place to hide.

"Dobby," she whispered even though she knew that no one could hear her unless they were inside of the room, "Dobby, I've brought breakfast."

A pair of socks appeared at the top of the fireplace, then two long, spindly legs. There was a loud "Oof!" as the elf jumped down from a hollow he had created in the chimney. Dark silver fabric from an old set of Hermione's robes pooled around him, and he hastened to straighten them.

"Dobby is very grateful that Miss- that Hermione has brought breakfast," he squeaked. His hands left soot marks all over the clean white napkin, but he did not seem to notice as he tore into the bread and sausages.

Hermione watched him with a stab of guilt. She had known that it would be hard for him to find employment after he had been freed, but she did not expect it to be this hard, Every morning the elf left in high spirits, and every evening he returned miserable.

"I think we'll be having roast chicken tonight," she said, "that's your favorite, isn't it?"

"Yes, Dobby loves roast chicken, but-" the elf gulped down a bite of food, and stared woefully up at Hermione.

She smiled encouragingly, "But what, Dobby?"

He wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve, and she was alarmed to see tears swimming in his giant eyes. "Dobby was thinking that he would try to find somewhere else to go tonight," he sniffed.

"What? No, Dobby, you can't!"

"Dobby has been a burden on the only friend he's ever known," the elf continued, his voice thick with tears. "Hermione has been so kind, but if Mast- if Dobby's old Master found out that Hermione has been hiding Dobby in her chimney-"

"Then I will face the consequences.I suppose that short of being confined to the Manor there's not much else they can do… to… me."

She stopped speaking as Dobby collapsed on the floor and gave in to the tears. "Bad Dobby has gotten his only friend _confined to the Manor_! Dobby is a bad friend! A bad friend!" He punctuated each statement with a slap to his ears.

"Stop!" She yelled, bending to grab at the elf's wrists, "Dobby, stop it!"

"Dobby is a bad elf! He must be punished!"

Hermione yanked the elf to his feet, and tried not to show how disturbed she was by his display. "Dobby is a free elf," she reminded him in a slightly louder than necessary voice, "You don't need to punish yourself for anything."

Dobby buried his face in his hands, "Hermione is so kind. Too kind to horrible, stupid, nasty-"

"_Dobby_."

At the harsh tone, the elf looked up in surprise.

"You are my friend," she explained, "and I would feel guilty if you left. Will you please stay here until you find employment so that I won't worry about you?"

He considered her for a moment, his eyes still leaking tears. Then he nodded so vigorously that his ears flapped

When she was certain that he would no longer hurt himself she went to her nightstand and pulled out a fresh handkerchief. Passing it to him, she smiled, "Besides, I'll be going to Hogwarts in a few weeks. Even if Mother and Papa decide to punish me, they can't keep me from going to Hogwarts."

She decided not to voice her worry over what would happen to the elf once she was gone. She had been keeping him fed and housed for the past month, but no one else knew that she was letting Dobby stay in her room.

_Well, he'll just have to go with me_, she thought. Maybe she could hide him in her trunk…

As she had been standing there the sky had turned from black to the deep sapphire that came before dawn. Turnip, who was much less interested in Dobby than Hermione, had curled up at the foot of her bed and was snoring loudly.

Once he had finished eating, Dobby left for another day of job hunting, while Hermione got dressed.

She pulled on the new white robes that she knew her mother would be pleased to see her in, and ran downstairs to the sun room.

Every morning the family ate breakfast together in the sun room. It was her mother's favorite room in the manor, with it's glass walls and white furniture. Soft pink roses curled along the outside of the glass, giving the impression that they were in the middle of a rose bush.

"Good morning, darling." Her mother smiled from the empty table as Hermione entered the room. "Come, sit next to me and I'll fix your hair."

Hermione groaned out of habit, but went and sat next to Narcissa. A hair brush and a box of ribbons was summoned, and Hermione hid a grin as her mother began to stroke the brush down her hair. Her mother could never be accused of being "too affectionate" with Hermione, so the girl always cherished these few moments before her brother came down.

"We need to pick up some more of that hair potion while we're in Diagon Alley today," Narcissa murmured under her breath. She had tackled the bushiness of Hermione's hair as if it was a personal insult to her. Every time a new product that promised to tame hair came out she ran to Diagon Alley and bought more than the entire household could use in a year.

Hermione's eyes drifted shut as her mother wove her hair into an intricate bun.

"Did you sleep well?"

Hermione opened her eyes. "I don't know," she confessed, "I don't remember what I dreamt, but I don't think it was good." She studied her hands intently, glad that she was not facing her mother.

"You've been practicing your Occlumency every night?"

She nodded, watching the tips of Turnip's ears darken.

"Good." There was a sigh, and she felt her mother's arms wrap gently around her. "I want you to make sure that you practice your skills every night. Remember what Severus told you? The best way to a shielded mind-"

"Is a clear mind," finished Hermione. "Don't worry, Mother, I will."

"Good. It will keep the nightmares away."

There was something in her mother's voice that made Hermione want to ask more. She twisted in the embrace so that she could see her mother's face, but as she took in the faraway expression she decided against it. Instead, she leaned her head against her mother's chest, and allowed her eyes to drift shut once more.

The quiet moment was interrupted as Draco came bounding in. He was followed by Lucius, whose arrival prompted the dishes at the table to fill with food.

"So," there was a gleam in her father's eye as he picked up his teacup, "I seem to recall that we had something planned for today."

Hermione and Draco perked up instantly.

Narcissa grinned, "Yes, I do believe there was. But it's so nice out today, and we have been wanting to review the garden plans."

"That will take all day," Lucius played along, "perhaps we should reschedule the trip to Diagon Alley. Tomorrow should work- oh, wait. I did promise that I would check in on our friends in Birmingham tomorrow-"

"And you and Hermione will be gone at the Ministry all day on Wednesday."

"Draco has a check in at St. Mungo's on Thursday, and then Hermione has her riding lesson."

"And Draco has his on Friday-"

"And Severus is going to be over for dinner too."

"Right! I'll make sure to have Mardie make his favorite. And Dumbledore will be here on Saturday-"

"Sunday has always been family time, we can't change that now Lucius."

"No, we can't. Family time is more important than anything."

"That settles it," Narcissa smiled and set her teacup down with a decisive rattle. "We'll postpone the Diagon Alley visit until next Monday."

"Nooooo!" both children cried in unison. Draco looked as if he were about to burst into tears. "You promised we would get our school supplies today!"

"How are we supposed to prepare for our lessons if we don't have our books!?"

"You said we could go to Fortescue's!"

The slight shaking of her father's shoulders gave him away, and Hermione glared darkly at him. "That's not funny!"

"It was a little funny," Narcissa whispered, grinning outright.

Draco, who had not caught on yet, yelled, "WE WERE SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT BROOMS!"

This was apparently too much for their parents, as they broke into laughter.

"Don't worry," consoled Hermione, nudging her brother's shoulder with her own, "We're still going. They just thought it would be funny to pretend that we weren't."

"Why would that be funny?" asked Draco, staring open mouthed at his chortling father.

"Because," and here Hermione drew herself up to her full height (well, as full as it could be considering that she was seated) and cast a withering look at the adults, "they are _immature_."

This statement did nothing to lessen the amusement. If anything, it renewed the laughter.

Draco, on the other hand, broke into a smile, and went back to his toast.

Their good mood proved to be infectious, and soon Hermione was smiling and laughing alongside them again. Her parents, though affectionate, were rarely ever playful.

Hermione had been to Diagon Alley dozens of times before, but as she stepped out of the Floo Network's emerald blaze into the Leaky Cauldron it seemed as if everything was shinier and more welcoming than ever before.

Their first stop was Madame Primpernelle's, so that they could be fitted for new everyday robes, cloaks, gloves, undergarments, and dress robes.

"We'll get your school robes at Madam Malkins," sighed Narcissa, "Primpernelle refuses to make them. Says they crush her creative spirit."

Lucius winked at Hermione when she said this. Neither one of them cared much for Madame Primpernelle, but neither one had the heart to crticize the woman in front of Narcissa.

Their fittings at Madame Primpernelle's were over quickly. Though she was fond of the Malfoys, and her designs were coveted throughout the Wizarding World, her gossip was not suitable for children in the slightest. So when Hermione asked what on earth "making like rabbits" meant, Lucius declared loudly that he would take her and Draco over to Madam Malkins while Narcissa finished up.

"Getting your Hogwarts robes?" Asked Madam Malkin with a fond grin as the three entered her shop. "Over here then, you're not the only ones. We've got another first-year here too."

They were ushered into a fitting area, where the magical measuring tapes sprang into action. A boy smiled sheepishly at them from under a mop of messy black hair.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" asked Draco, holding his arms up as a measuring tape wrapped around him.

"Yeah," the boy said quietly. Hermione noted that his muggle clothes were awfully tattered, and looked to be several sizes too big. She felt a stab of pity as she noticed him eyeing Draco's robes with interest.

"Have you ever been in a Wizarding shop before today?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

_I knew it, _she thought, _he's a muggleborn! _She had met muggleborns before, of course, but usually they looked like normal wizards. She inhaled sharply when she noticed the tape that held his glasses together, and forced her voice to sound cheerful.

"You're going to love Hogwarts. It's very pretty. There's a lake, and ghosts! Our uncle is the Headmaster-"

"Your uncle is Dumbledore?" asked the boy, his tone impressed.

Hermione could not help but feel slightly pleased with herself. "Yes. He takes us there on picnics during the summer. He's really nice, I'm sure you'll like him."

"Do you have a broom?" Draco asked.

The boy shook his head, "Not yet."

"Me either, not really anyway. I still have my old training broom, but Father says he'll get me a proper one soon."

Hermione, who was more interested in currency exchange rates than she was in brooms, rolled her eyes as her brother launched into a description of the top five brooms he'd like to have. To her surprise, the boy seemed delighted by this turn in the conversation. He asked questions about speed, and how you stayed on, and Draco answered happily.

"You're all done, dear," Madam Malkin told the boy. "Hagrid is waiting outside for you."

"It was nice to meet you," the boy grinned at them.

"Yeah," Draco smiled back. "Find us on the train! I have a great book about Quidditch History."

"Definitely!"

"Goodbye," called Hermione as she watched him run through the door.

"I wonder why he was here with Hagrid," whispered Draco, "the man can't keep track of a baby pig, let alone a person."

"Oh, Draco, that was one time! When are you going to forgive Hagrid for that?"

It was only later, as her father paid Madam Malkin for her services, that she realized that she had forgotten to ask the boy's name.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8: The Best House Is

Hermione felt an ache in her chest as she walked down the corridors of the Ministry with her father. This would be the last time she visited for months, and though she was certain her father would be happy to resume their weekly visit during the Holidays, she could not help but feel as if something were ending.

She snuck a sideways look at him, and smiled when she realized he was doing the same.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with my Wednesdays once you've left," he said, offering a small smile that did not quite chase the sadness from his eyes.

"I'm not going away forever," she reminded him, "I'll be back for Christmas, and Easter, and then next summer we can spend the first week at the Ministry to make up for lost time."

"It's a deal," he sighed dramatically, "I suppose I'll just have to wait until then to come back. Pity, I think I was just beginning to talk some sense into Cornelius."

"Nonesense, Papa. You're a wizard, not a miracle granter."

He laughed at that. It was a loud, booming sound that drew the attention of several administrators who looked around curiously, and smiled at the familiar pair.

"But seriously Papa," she said a few minutes later, "You have to keep me updated about everything that happens. I don't want to be surprised when I come back."

"Of course I will, Mione," he promised. He wrapped an arm around her and tugged her into his side. "I'll write you every day. Twice a day on Wednesdays if you like."

"Ok." She felt a strange lump in her throat, and suddenly wished that Turnip was allowed to come to the Ministry with them.

He tugged a tendril of her hair gently, "You're going to love Hogwarts, sweetheart. When December comes you'll be disappointed to leave."

Shaking her head stubbornly, she whispered out "No I won't."

There was no response, but he hugged her a little tighter to his side.

"Well," he said a few moments later as they came to the stairway, "I need to check on some paperwork. I suppose you'll want to visit _him_?"

She rolled her eyes, "You can say his name, Papa. It's not going to kill you."

"It just might," he retorted, but he smiled anyway. "You go on. I'll be along in a bit."

Although he had trusted her to make her way through the Ministry on her own for several years, she always felt a sense of pride as she did so. With her head held high she navigated her way down the stairs and through the corridors. Each person she came across was greeted politely, as Narcissa had instructed her, and she smiled as each congratulated her on her acceptance to Hogwarts.

Finally, she came to the office that she was looking for.

"Hermione! Come in, come in, I just received something I think you'll enjoy. I think it works with eclecticity, but I can't be sure."

Arthur Weasley's office was the only place besides the Manor that Hermione felt safe to be herself. She broke into a broad grin and practically ran over to his desk. There was a strange, pear shaped glass bulb with metal strings inside. "Can I touch it?" she asked, peering at the object.

"Of course, it won't hurt you." He laughed, and waved his wand to move a stack of papers off of a second chair.

"It's cold!" she said, taking her seat. She settled back in her chair, the object clutched in her hand. The familiar smell of dust and burnt toast filled her nose. The walls were covered in charts, graphs, and drawings of various Muggle appliances.

Arthur nodded, "And fragile, so be careful not to drop it. I broke one this morning."

"How does it work?"

"Well, I believe that-"

He launched into an explanation of 'eclecticity' that any Muggle could have immediately informed him was incorrect. Fortunately, there was no one who knew any better, so the girl listened in full captivation. Then, when he finished explaining the significance of spinning wool into steel (another incorrect hypothesis) he changed the conversation.

"So, are you ready for Hogwarts?"

She could not help but feel slightly disappointed that he would ask the only question anyone else had asked for the last year. "Yes," she sounded far more confident than she felt. She did not add that her answer had not changed since last week, not the week before.

"And have you given any thought to which House you'll be in?"

She spoke without thought, "Slytherin!"

Arthur cleared his throat, and if she hadn't known any better she would have sworn that he winced a little. "Are you- are you _sure _that you want to be in Slytherin?"

"Oh yes," she said, not noticing his tone, "Everyone in my family in in Slytherin, and it's the best House! Did you know that it's in the dungeons? And there are windows that show the Black Lake- you can see the giant Squid sometimes! And Merlin was in Slytherin!"

"Yes," Arthur gently interrupted the girl, "but have you given any consideration to the other Houses?"

A frown settled over her features. "Why would I do that?"

"Well it's not really fair to disregard them entirely. Each House has it's merits. I myself was in Gryffindor-"

Hermione's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"None of that now," chided Arthur gently, "Gryffindor was a great house. You'll never have any closer friends. Unless you're in Hufflepuff, of course. And Ravenclaw puts loads of emphasis on learning. I know you love to read-"

"But I don't want to be a reader when I grow up," she groaned, "I want to be the Minister!"

"You can be the Minister without being sorted into Slytherin."

She took a deep breath, and then spoke in an air that suggested she was explaining something very simple to a small child. "I'm a Malfoy, Arthur. Slytherin is in my bones. I'm cunning, ambitious, resourceful, clever, proud, and I have a thirst for power."

"Really, a thirst?"

"Arthur," she whined slightly, "You know what I mean. I'm going to be the most powerful witch in the entire world!"

This time his wince was unmistakable.

She narrowed her eyes and set the object back on his desk before folding her arms across her chest. "You don't think I can do it?"

"No, no, I didn't say that," Arthur placated. He ran his hand through his thinning hair, "It's just that you… Good people can be twisted under the right circumstances, and every person who has gone into Slytherin-"

"I hope you aren't filling my daughter's head with lies, Weasley."

The cold voice of her father made Hermione start. She looked around, and immediately noticed the furious expression on his face.

"Everything I've said is the truth," Arthur shot back, flushing a dark red. He was gripping a piece of parchment so tightly that it was now crumpled beyond repair.

Her father chuckled mirthlessly, "I know you believe that the brief meetings you have had with my daughter have given you a sufficient knowledge of her character, but I assure you that you are incorrect. Hermione will shine in any House she belongs to- and, as her father, I know that her character would not be _twisted _by anything."

Arthur glowered at him, "I suppose that's true, given that she's spent her entire life living with _you_."

An uncomfortable weight settled on Hermione's chest. The only sound in the room was Arthur's heavy breathing. Slowly, she settled her hands on the arms of her chair, and stood.

"Papa is the greatest father I could ever ask for," she lifted her chin, hoping that the shakiness of her voice wasn't noticeable.

"That doesn't mean he's a good man," said the redhead.

Hermione expected her father to protest then, to shout, or even shoot a hex at Arthur. But when she looked at him he just stood there, his eyes staring at nothing.

"Papa," she walked over to him and gingerly reached for his hand.

As soon as their hands touched, Lucius gave a start. "It's fine, sweetheart. I wouldn't expect a man who can't feed his family properly to know what a good father looks like." The words lacked their usual bite.

Hermione decided not to point out that Arthur had said "man", not "father". Instead, she tightened her hold on him. Together, they walked from the cluttered office.

"I'm sorry Papa," she whispered past the lump in her throat as they entered the Atrium.

He looked down at her in surprise, "Why are you sorry sweetheart?"

She sighed, and looked away. "I knew that Arthur didn't like you, but I kept going back to talk to him anyway. I'm sorry." She felt as if no one in the entire world had ever felt as small as she did in that moment.

She heard her father sigh, and pull her over to one of the Floo fireplaces. He called out "Malfoy Manor!" and pulled her into the green flames.

Seconds later, she trudged glumly into the familiar surroundings of her father's study.

"Alright, now we can talk without risk of being overheard," sighed her father as he slung his cloak over a chair. "You know that while I do not… _approve_ of Weasley, he is the only one in the Ministry who is dense enough to answer your questions about the Muggle world without wondering about your motives."

"But he doesn't like you," she said, her eyes locking on the Malfoy family tree tapestry that hung behind his desk. The name "Hermione Narcissa Malfoy" curled elegantly next to Draco's in her father's handwriting. The lump in her throat grew, and she struggled to hold back her tears.

"Sweetheart, you're going to find that many people will treat us differently because we're Malfoys. Sometimes they treat you better, sometimes worse. It's not always fair, but sometimes… sometimes it's deserved. In the case of Arthur Weasley- well, let's just say I deserve his contempt."

She looked up in shock, and her eyes widened at the expression on her father's face. "Papa?"

He tried to smile, "I'm not proud of my past, Hermione. But you should know, before you go to school, that you're going to hear things- and some of them will be true. I'm- I haven't been a very nice person, sweetheart."

She had never seen her father look so… unsure. His fingers tapped restlessly on top of the desk. He looked almost afraid of her response.

Without a second thought, she crossed the room and threw her arms around him. "_I _think you're nice, Papa. I think you're the best person in the entire world, and I love you."

His arms closed tightly around her, "I love you too."

* * *

><p>"I wish you would have let me throw a proper party," lamented Narcissa several days later as she and Hermione waited in the drawing room with Draco.<p>

"Mione hates parties," chirped Draco as he admired his reflection in the darkened window, "She'd probably spend all of her time hiding under the table with a book-"

"That was one time!" interrupted Hermione.

Draco laughed under the heat of her glare, "Only because Father caught you last year."

"We could have invited Lottie," suggested their mother, "Or Theodore, or even the Changs. I hear their daughter was sorted into Ravenclaw-"

Hermione smiled, "It's fine, Mother. Dinner is much better."

"But perhaps a few friends your own age-"

"Cissa, I thought we agreed to let Hermione have the celebration she wanted."

Hermione had never felt more grateful for her father than at that moment. He strode into the room, leading Severus Snape behind him.

"Uncle Sev!" she squealed, running to throw her arms around the tall, thin man.

Severus grunted at the force of her impact, and gave a few awkward pats to her back. "Lucius, I thought you said that you would talk to her about the hugging."

"Sorry, Sev. I guess I forgot," he shrugged.

There were only two people in the world that her parents trusted with the knowledge of Hermione's "unexplainables." Or at least, that's what Hermione called them. They were the strange, often frightening feelings that came and went without warning. The reason that Uncle Albus had given her Thimble and worked so hard to teach her Occlumency; and the reason that Severus was often called to the manor in the middle of the night to administer calmings draughts and make sure that there was no physical harm done.

While she loved Albus, there was something familiar about Severus that made her feel safe. Like he was an overly large teddy bear who pretended to be grumpy all of the time.

"Thank you for coming to my early birthday party, Uncle Sev!"

"You are very welcome," he said, gently extracting himself from her embrace.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Narcissa added, "we wanted to do something special because Hermione's real birthday will be happening while she's at school."

"It was no trouble at all."

Dumbledore arrived a few minutes later, his pockets stuffed with Muggle sweets, and his arms locked around a large, lumpy parcel wrapped in bright yellow paper.

"Draco, we're about to eat dinner," warned Narcissa as the boy instinctively headed towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore chuckled, "There will be plenty left after dinner, young man. Plenty."

At Narcissa's insistence, Dumbledore's gift was left on the table with the gifts from Hermione's parents. As the rest of them headed towards the dining room Hermione spotted Severus pulling a tiny item from his pocket, enlarging it, and placing it next to the other gifts. She hid her smile and followed the others to the table.

"Uncle Severus, what's the Slytherin password?" She asked, sliding into the chair next to his once he'd sat down.

He quirked an eyebrow, "You know I can only tell you that if you are sorted into Slytherin."

She dismissed that statement immediately, "I will be. I want to make sure that I can go back to the dormitory without a prefect if Turnip is too overwhelmed at the feast."

The animal in question was currently salivating over Severus' lap, and had never been overwhelmed by any crowd, but Hermione refused to buckle under the potion master's gaze.

"I do not know," said Severus carefully. "The password will be set on the morning of the sorting."

Hermione's shoulders slumped as the plates and platters before them filled with food.

"You shouldn't be so set on Slytherin, Hermione," said Dumbledore good naturedly as he piled his plate high with roast potatoes. "The other houses might feel jealous."

"Well, they should!" Proclaimed Hermione as she selected a piece of rosemary chicken, "None of them are half as good as Slytherin."

Lucius snickered into his glass of pumpkin juice, ignoring the dirty looks that Narcissa shot him.

"What if we get sorted into Hufflepuff?" Asked Draco, his eyes widening as if the idea had just occurred to him.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but Severus was faster-

"Then you will be very lucky. Hufflepuffs are loyal, kind, hardworking- it would be as if you were gaining a family instead of a House. And, Professor Sprout tries to do something special for her student's at least once a week."

Hermione, Lucius, and Narcissa remained unimpressed by this statement, but a thoughtful look had replaced Draco's horror.

"Well said, Severus. Of course, the same could be said for any of Hogwarts' Houses, I'm sure."

"Indeed. Well, Lucius tells me that the four of you recently visited Australia on Holiday-"

The children immediately launched into a vivid description of each of the eleven days they spent there. The conversation took them all the way through dessert.

The night was very nearly perfect. The gifts were opened, Dumbledore regaled them all with a story about his own sorting- and then it happened.

Turnip, whose fur had been a rosy gold all evening, changed color in an instant. It was as if someone dipped the wubble in ink.

Hermione felt the icy cold envelop her body, and her breathing began to accelerate. She felt as if she was beginning to drift away from the room. Fuzzy voices drifted lazily to her ears.

"_Lucius! Turnip's fur!" _

"_It must be the Dementors. Mardie!" _

There was a pop, and Hermione was vaguely aware of someone lifting her up. The smell of her father's cologne calmed her somewhat.

"_Bring some chocolate to Hermione's room. Severus-" _

"_I can Floo back to my quarters and collect some potions." _

"_Is Hermione going to be ok?" _

"_Yes, of course, Draco. Stay with Uncle Albus." _

The next thing she knew she was being tucked into her bed.

"_Turnip_," her mother's voice called out, and Hermione felt the bed dip. Soft fur brushed against her neck as the dog snuggled against her, and she felt her breathing slow back to it's regular pace.

The voices became much clearer after that.

"I've brought the calming draught," Severus' voice said. "Open her mouth."

She allowed someone to gently prise open her mouth, and the cold potion was poured in. It was like being wrapped in a warm, cozy blanket. She hadn't realized that she had been shivering until she stopped.

Her mother's worried voice said, "It's never been that fast before. We've always had warning."

"The barrier must be breaking," sighed Severus.

Hermione's brow wrinkled, and she wondered _What barrier? _

"So soon?" now it was her father's voice.

"I'm not going to pretend to know much about it. Albus didn't elaborate. But Hermione is nearly twelve, and the excitement of going to school must be accelerating her magic somehow. Frankly, knowing how advanced she is, I'm surprised the barrier has lasted this long."

"Should we tell her about B-"

"I don't think it's necessary. She is very good about practicing her Occlumency. I myself have covertly tested her shields. And while _she _has… extreme emotions, I believe that Hermione is rational enough that her shields should remain intact."

"This shouldn't be happening to her," sighed her mother.

Severus let out a growl, "No, it shouldn't. But this is what happens when anyone becomes involved in one of Albus' schemes-"

"Mother! I brought Hermione's chocolate! Mardie couldn't find any, so Uncle Albus aparated to Honeyduke's. He's stocking the pantry right now."

Hermione opened her eyes in time to see Draco drop a small mountain of chocolate at the foot of her bed. Her brother's eyes were worried, but he smiled at her and thrust a chocolate frog at her. "Happy early birthday," he said in an overly cheerful voice.

Hermione ate the chocolate, and felt some of the strange depression subside.

"Can I have some, Mother?" Draco asked.

Narcissa smiled thinly, "Of course, darling. Of course you can. You two enjoy, and if Hermione feels better maybe we can finish the party."

The three adults went into the corridor, where they whispered urgently amongst themselves. Every once in a while they looked over at Hermione, and the girl pulled Turnip closer.

"Do you ever get the feeling they're hiding something from us?" whispered Draco.

"Yeah," Hermione's brow furrowed as she thought back to the conversation she'd heard. "I really do."

* * *

><p>AN: Ok! The next chapter will have the sorting! And the chapter after that will catch up with Bellatrix. After the next chapter we will be jumping through the first few books a bit. Remember that the major story arc starts in book 6 (really the end of book 5) so if there's anything from the first 5 books that you really want to see please let me know! If it works with the story I'll find a way to fit it in.

Also, a note about Draco- Remember that Narcissa and Lucius are raising him to survive Voldemort's return, not to be the next Lord Malfoy. That's going to play a large part when it comes to his Hogwarts years- he is definitely going to be OOC.

Ok, now to answer some questions:

Yes, Turnip will be going to Hogwarts. And to the reviewer who said they were picturing a corgi- that's what I was picturing too!

Hermione's the one who freed Dobby. She gave him some of her old clothes at the beginning of the summer.

Hermione's birthday is still the same. She's going to be in the same year as Draco, but he still views her as an older sister.

We will see Bellatrix's reaction to everything in the chapter after next.

Also, I can't really answer if this is going to be a good!Hermione or bad!Hermione fic without giving away too much. Let's just say that Hermione is going to be very grey, and Bellatrix is going to be a lot closer to book Bellatrix than she is to THAW Bellatrix. So Hermione is going to be struggling with that as well.

I think those are the main questions. If I missed anything please let me know! As always, thank you for reading, and thank you for following/favoriting/reviewing!

Please let me know what you think!


End file.
